EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE -PART TEN-
by Starskylicious
Summary: A story of silence, hurt, love and redemption with a glimpse of hope and a promise of a future. The story is now complete.


**ACT 48 ****\- ST DAVID'S EVE-**

"Dave?"

She entered the family room and found Hutch pointing his gun at her and Day-Day.

Starsky was sitting on the floor, rather, sprawled on the ground and weeping uncontrollably.

"Dave? What?" she repeated.

Seeing him like that, she let loose of the baby's stroller and ran to the place where her husband was with his dark blue eyes wide opened and staring dumbly at her.

For him, she was like a vision, he couldn't utter a sound.

"Dave? Oh, My God! Oh no, Motek, my baby. Please? What - what happened to you? What did John say?" She moved closer to him and cupped his head in her hands lovingly; she started caressing his brown curls.

Starsky beckoned his partner to go and got out to the deck through the French window to the beach. The brunet wasn't able to speak at the time; in fact, he could scarcely breathe. His chest hurt him, and he thought that he would pass out. The combination of the lack of air, the cries and the scare and everything else prevented him from talking.

"Honey? What's going on? Are you okay? Speak to me, please? Is there something wrong? Trust me, everything's gonna be all right." She asked him, but Starsky was still wordless so, after seeing him like that she hugged him. "Oh no!"

Suddenly Day-Day's protests came from the place where the baby had been left alone at the doorstep. Since nobody was paying attention to him, the child was trying to get rid of the lap belt while attempted to stand on the stroller's footrest. The baby's reckless movements made the canopy get down, and Starsky started laughing distractedly in a mix of cries and laughter at the sight of his sweet child, releasing the pent-up tension, finally. At that moment, Hutch came back to the house and nodded to Starsky, silently telling him that nothing seemed to be out of place. Caroline got flustered, "Ever got the feeling that you are missing something? Would you mind telling me what's going on here?" she insisted already distraught. The woman didn't understand the sudden change in her husband's expression neither why it had happened, but she felt a little uneasy, and though her voice became calmer, she couldn't disguise that she started feeling angrier than at the beginning of the situation since she couldn't infer what had happened.

She was frightened and also had a guilty conscience.

She stood.

Hutch put his gun into his holster and ran to where Starsky was still lying on the floor, ignoring Caroline's nervous glance.

"You okay, pal?" he threw his arms to his partner and began helping him to stand up.

"Yeah..." Starsky closed his eyes still feeling a little bit dizzy and then patted Hutch's chest, reassuring him and went to where Caroline was standing puzzled over the reaction of the two friends beside her.

"I'm asking you again" she insisted, "Would you please tell me what's going on here?" the woman was feeling increasingly upset.

Starsky started pouting, full of emotion. He raised his eyebrows and stretched his hand to the woman's cheek, "You sure are okay, the baby and you, are fine?" he voiced for the first time.

"What?" She frowned, and she looked back to where baby Day-Day was still struggling with his stroller and said. "Of course we are, yes! We're okay, Dave, what's going on?"

"I thought I lost you!" He rushed to say and hugged her.

Hutch decided to let them talk and went to where the baby was and lifted him by his torso. "C' mere baby, c' mere with Uncle Hutch," he said.

It took Starsky a while to let loose of his wife. His strong arms didn't want to let go, and she let her man embrace her. He sobbed while hugging her until the moment he could slow down his pounding heart and tried to order his thoughts. "Someone called to the Precinct and said that you and Day-Day had been kidnaped."

"What?", she asked skeptically.

"Just that, that both of you were missing, that's why I was so desperate."

"Oh honey, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, it's okay" Starsky shook his head and went to the windowpane and lost his sight at the sea while inflated his lungs. There was an eerie silence, seconds in which they retained their breaths until the moment in which the brunet regained his ability to think and talk. "Hutch," he said calmer and in a feeble voice with his back to his partner and Caroline. "I'm not able to think clearly now, but you know that we oughtta find out what's happened."

"I know, buddy. Calm down. I'll take care."

Starsky nodded, realizing how confused he felt. Hutch gave him the baby and Starsky took hold of Day-Day. Clung to him, desperately. He put him on the ground in the fashion he liked so much to witness, and the little boy started frantically responding to his expectations while he put one foot in front of the other. After that, Starsky relaxed and delivered himself entirely to his partner. He crouched beside the baby and began crying, small teardrops of emotion. Little Day-Day seemed to realize and dried his father's wet face with his soft touch. They were like that for some time.

"You sure you're okay, Starsk?" came Hutch's voice from behind.

Starsky nodded again, urging his friend to regain his position in front of the astonished woman and find out what had happened, so Hutch started asking her the very vital questions.

"Okay, I'm gonna tell you, Cary. Sit down".

The blond took Caroline's hands in his and motioned her to sit down while she was still looking at Starsky, who was sitting on the floor in front of the window distractedly and playing with their baby. He couldn't do anything else.

"After we'd left from Hope, Starsky called you on the phone, but you didn't answer." Hutch stopped and watched how his partner drowned in the kid on his lap. A sense of tranquility filled in all the spaces, and now it was his turn to explain to the lady what had happened, so she looked at him, entrusted him altogether. "He got worried."

Caroline shushed him, she put her hand over Hutch's lips and said, "First of all, is everything okay?" she told him in a whisper, she thought the worst. "Hutch, please? Tell me, what has happened at Hope? I don't give a damn about my alleged kidnapping. What did Murray say about Dave?"

"Everything's okay, Cary. Be calm. Starsky's doing fine; he wanted to tell you that he's okay. Next Thursday, they're gonna give him the final report, but John said that we should start buying champagne to celebrate in advance." Hutch smiled relieved, and so she did.

"Oh! Thank goodness, thank you! For a moment, I thought..."

"I know, it's okay, I understand." He interrupted her, "Starsky wanted to tell you, that's when he called here, but you didn't seem to be at the house."

"I wasn't..." She started getting nervous. She knew she was hiding something, and she was afraid that maybe, it was about time, to tell the truth.

"Where've you been?" Hutch asked her, softly.

"...went for a walk," she said flatly.

Hutch frowned. Her voice told him that the young woman was hiding something. He waited for some time, staring at her, at her nervous gestures and trying to unravel her discomfort.

"And where did you go?" he insisted.

"I went to see someone," she made a pause, thought twice whether continued telling him but repented to doing it, "at the Miramar Hotel,"

"Someone? Like who? Did Starsky know?" he was sure she wasn't telling everything.

"No, he didn't."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

She sighed, seemingly uncomfortable, "I didn't tell Dave because I know he wouldn't approve my meetings with this particular man."

Hutch grimaced. "Starsky? Wouldn't have let you? And who this man is?"

The blond realized how reluctant to speak she was; she took her sight out of his face, so he grabbed her chin toward him and raised her face. He asked her again. "Cary, honey, this is serious. I know you love Starsky as much as I do, so you've gotta tell me who this man is."

Visibly heartbroken and with her defenses entirely vanquished, she said in a whisper, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't wanna lie to Dave but... he wouldn't have let me. Sometimes he's as stubborn as he can be!" she explained herself.

"Yes, he is, but he's a cop too." He looked again to where Starsky was playing distractedly with the baby. "The best of us. I mean, maybe he's right about this man, maybe you shouldn't have seen him. But don't be scared and just tell me who he was".

She fixed her beautiful deep blue eyes into Hutch's lighter ones and cooed. "You promise me you ain't gonna tell him?"

He shook his head. "Can't promise you that, Caroline. We're partners, and we must find out what happened, and it's critical that you tell us with whom you've been." Hutch raised his eyebrows to the girl. She was nervous, and so was he. He realized that the girl wouldn't talk in front of Starsky, so he invited his partner to go out on the deck and grab the bags that Cary had left on the floor. "You okay, Starsk? Why don't you go and pick the groceries' bags inside while I'm talking to Cary here?" His partner gave him a knowing glance. He understood and left the house with Day-Day. "Is it okay now? Come on, tell me", he insisted.

She waited for a few seconds until Starsky disappeared into the deck and said hesitantly, "Richard Dryden, from Internal Affairs!" She sighed uncomfortably. "I've been seeing him for a while back. He wants to help Dave get back to the Force."

Hutch took a look at the deck outside, the brunet seemed to be absorbed in the baby and was not paying attention, thankfully. He lowered his voice "Are you crazy, Cary? Dryden hates Starsky!"

"Oh no! Dave told me so, but the man was very kind to me since day one. I trust him, Hutch. He's always shown concern about Dave's condition. I think that you're both wrong!"

"You think...?" Hutch could not believe his ears, he interrupted himself. He was dazed. How could it be that Cary had been so innocent and neglected? Richard Dryden hated Starsky; he had manifested enough times. Why had she met the man and had hidden to his friend that way? Suddenly he felt he wanted to kill the girl, but he recovered, it was no use at the time. He had to find the reasons and the evil part of it, and none of them were Cary. "How many times have you seen him?" He still kept his eyes to Starsky, nervously. His partner still wasn't aware of anything the two of them were talking.

"Five or six times, I don't know. We usually go to a Coffee Store at the Promenade. He asks me how Dave's doing; that sort of things. He's always helped me."

"Help you? With what? Or who?" he said worriedly.

She stammered. "I don't know; Richard's a kind man, and he always thinks the best about Dave. He told me that he wanted him back in the force, and I believed that he could help him."

"Help him?" Hutch shook his head and closed his eyes.

In that instant, it dawned on him. All the pieces fell into their places.

Dryden was the man.

The black cop hated Starsky. The man had never forgiven him for what he had done to him when Vanessa's murder. After that episode, Dryden felt like he was the derision of Metro and couldn't get past the state of rage he felt toward his partner. He should have found out before. He cursed himself for his ineffectiveness and disregard. Taking care of his partner was his responsibility, his mission, and his top priority. His partner had shown him many times that it was that way. Because of him, to protect him, Starsky had put himself in danger back then and during all this time.

_And what did I do?_ In return, he hadn't been able to find out who the traitor was. And now it seemed obvious.

He always knew that someone inside from Metro had to be the betrayer, even before Gunther.

He knew that someone had provided the information to their enemies.

That same someone who had always received that same information, too and had put them in danger enough times.

And that someone was Richard Dryden.

Caroline realized that the blond-haired man got lost in his thoughts, so she asked him utterly regretful. "What? Oh! I'm scared, Hutch; I'm sorry. What did I do?"

"Okay, It's all right, no worries." He shushed her still unable to react and gathered himself; he wasn't going to tell her. It would be no use to bother the woman even more, but he had to keep asking questions, so he did. "but you just tell me, did you notice something different this time? Dryden did anything differently?"

"No! Nothing that I can recall. He's very affectionate with Day-Day and me. He said that he should know about Starsky's health condition and assess his cancer. That way, he might help him get back." She made a pause; the worry was imprinted all over her beautiful face, so she continued talking, "I don't want Dave to getting back to the Force to being a Detective Hutch, and I know that you don't want it either but... I also know, as much as you know, that he's willing to do it. He wants to go back on the streets with all his being, and I thought that - that I could help him achieve it if Dryden liked me." She broke. Hutch's somber demeanor, the length of his silence, the tone of his voice spoke volumes about how wrong she had been. "I did wrong, didn't I?"

"It doesn't matter now, Cary. I just want you to tell me what you said and, please this is important; you must think whether he did something different this time. Please, think of it carefully."

"Okay. I told him that Dave was at Hope taking his last exams and that next Thursday the doctors would say whether he was in remission or not. That's all. We drank coffee and then I got back home. I went to the convenience store and took the Ocean Front Walk back home."

"So that's all it happened? Nothing relevant? Out of the ordinary, I mean from the other times?"

She shook her head.

Hutch insisted. "Did he talk to someone else? Did he do something differently?"

"No, nothing!" She started to break; she was scared. "Oh, Hutch! You mean that I could have put Dave in danger? Oh! I'm stupid, I'm sorry."

"Calm down, be quiet and try to remember. What did you tell him about Starsky's health? Come again! Did you… did you say to him whether he could run or not, for example?" the detective ventured.

"No! He already knows that he can't make any physical effort!" She opened her eyes, "Oh my God!" She put her hand over her mouth.

Hutch closed his eyes, "What else does he know, Cary?"

The girl started mumbling, and sobbing while said "I've told him that he's still weak and, and that… that his lungs are still very sick… that perhaps, he might never be able to get back to the Force because of that. I've told him that maybe he wouldn't be healthy enough; that he might die anytime if he makes any strenuous effort. That's why I was so scared, but he told me that he would help me fool the system if it was necessary, and I trusted him." She made a long and heartfelt pause and concluded, "Hutch, he knows for sure that Dave can't run because it's still too dangerous for him to doing it." She stopped and dawned on her the extent of her words, so she continued. "Now you tell me, what did Dryden do? What did he force Dave to do?"

The blond-haired man took a mouthful of air, "He threatened Starsky with you and Day-Day and he made him run, Cary. One mile in five minutes and one more mile to be back here." She started sobbing and trembling scared. "He gave him clues by the phone to whereas you and the baby were supposed to be, and a short time to go and find those clues. By running."

Hutch didn't add anything else; he couldn't worsen things with Caroline anymore, neither subject the young woman to feeling even guiltier than she already felt. She felt awful enough for everything, for being careless and foolish and innocent and, above all, trustful. "Calm down, Cary. You did what you thought was best. Now, don't you worry so much and try to remember again. This time, did he do something different?"

She opened her eyes trying to recall every minute of their conversation and finally, said.

"Well, sometime in the middle of the meeting he went to the counter and spoke to the bartender and asked him a favor. He told me he needed to talk to someone at that exact moment."

"Did you notice if he was nervous, impatient or something?"

"Well, restless, yeah. Suddenly, he took a look at his wristwatch and stood nervously. He told me that he should talk to someone." She shook her head. "And he was happy that Starsky's diagnosis would be on time. He repeated it many times, I… I didn't understand to what he referred to."

"And you asked him?" Hutch asked her impatiently.

"Yes. He said that it would be great that next Thursday we're gonna know the final diagnosis because that way we're gonna be on time with the Tier People" She shrugged.

"That's bullshit! Internal Affairs's not Personnel Department. They don't have any communication or any saying with the reinstatement Committee." he almost shouted.

"But he told me many times that he must schedule Dave's return to the force. He assured me that he must be well-informed about his prognosis to help him."

Hutch shook his head again; he was speechless. "And you believe him? Why did you do that? Why did you hide from Starsky or me?" What the girl was saying was absurd.

"Because he said that I shouldn't tell anybody, that neither you nor Dobey, let alone Dave, should know about our meetings." she almost shouted.

Hutch closed his eyes, his lips tight in impotence. He didn't answer, and Cary got scared. She realized how wrong she had been, unwittingly.

"Oh Hutch, what can I do? How can I protect him now?"

"It's okay. You don't have to worry, not anymore. Nothing has happened, you see? He's okay, you and the baby are okay, and I'm here. I am here, Cary." he said protectively.

And they both hugged.

Suddenly Starsky entered the living room again; he was carrying Day-Day piggyback. He stood still when he saw that his best friend and wife were visibly shocked.

"What's going on? Something's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, buddy, but we've gotta talk," Hutch answered and stood.

"What did you find out?" the brunet was impatient.

Hutch looked at Caroline; she was ashamed. "Do you want me to tell him?" the blond asked her.

The beautiful girl shook her head. She could be stupid but not coward. Her eyes clutched on the floor. "No, Hutch. I will. I have to do it myself." and she bit her lower lip and looked at Starsky, frightened like a five-year-old little girl. "But you'll stay?" She looked at Hutch and begged him.

Hutch nodded and gave her a loving and comforting smile. Then, he looked at Starsky, the brunet frowned and crouched beside her, encouraging her to talk.

"What's going on, honey?" he asked his wife.

She raised her eyes to her husband. "I'm sorry, Motek; I lied to you."

Starsky opened his eyes and lowered his mouth, he frowned, he couldn't believe what she was telling him. Either way, this had to be a mistake, she wouldn't lie to him. He trusted Cary.

"I've been seeing Richard Dryden, secretly, more than once. I know that you don't like him, and wouldn't have approved, but I thought that he wanted to help you. Now I realized that I compromised your safety, and worst of all, I've put Day-Day in danger. Hutch thinks that he's the one behind the fake kidnapping." She started crying.

Starsky stayed silent. He squinted his eyes and looked at Hutch, who was standing still beside them. Then he stood up. He took some time to gather his feelings. At first, he wanted to strangle Cary, his jaw tensed. He had already told her that Richard Dryden hated him, that he was a dangerous man, so what did she suppose to doing with him? But then, seeing how repentant she was, he thought better of it and stretched his arms to his lady, comforted her in the way he only could.

"C' mere, it's okay. Maybe you helped us to run the veil of lies. We thought that the man was a bad egg for a while; a long, long time ago, didn't we?" He raised his eyes at his partner. "Now we know it's true, finally. Some detectives we are Hutch!" He smiled a gentle smile at his friend again. "Dryden happened to be the rotten apple, at last." The faint smile turned into the brightest 1000 watt grin he could muster.

"Oh, Dave! I'm sorry I've been this innocent and unwise! I feel humiliated. What're you gonna think about me? I'm a stupid person. You won't love me anymore!"

"Hey! Hey!" He took her unruly hair, and with the back of his hand, he stroked her cheek. "Hey, stop it! Don't punish yourself! I could not love you any better. I love you just the way you are."

"Yeah... you and Barry White!" she said.

They both laughed and hugged.

"But I wonder, who the most stubborn is now?" Starsky winked his eye at Caroline, lovingly.

"I'm sorry Dave. I love you so much; I thought that I was helping you."

"Yeah, I know. One thing's true, thanks to this I've proved myself that I still can run, haven't I Hutch?" Starsky said mischievously.

"Yeah, every cloud has a silver lining, buddy." the flaxen-haired man said visibly proud.

And they all laughed.

*************************S&H***********************

From what Caroline told them, to Jose and Dryden, there was only one step.

After ensuring that Starsky was okay and fully recovered and after Caroline calmed down, the detectives phoned Huggy and asked him to go to the beach house to stay with her. They also made a phone call to Dobey, told him that it wouldn't be necessary to check on Parry and warned him of what had happened; they also asked him to send someone from the Police Department to take care of the woman and the baby.

Hutch wanted Starsky safe at home, but neither he nor the Third Army commanded by Patton could have prevented him from going after the dirty cop.

Not after having proven himself what he had been able to do, how far he had gone in the frantic search for his wife and son. He felt revitalized and, as the traitor cop had predicted, unstoppable.

Meanwhile, Richard Dryden was a witness of it all from his safe spot in front of the beach house. He cursed his lips in utter disappointment and fear when he saw the two detectives leaving the house. Nothing had happened to Starsky. He was in one piece. Whole. Complete. Like a damn miracle.

He knew he had his days counted.

*************************S&H***********************

The detectives went to the hospital and found the not so sweet old man who had changed his appointment with Starsky and then to the Cafe where the bartender, Jose, worked. And almost two years later from the last time they'd done it, they played their 'good cop-bad cop' routine, and the poor man broke by telling them everything they wanted to know.

Upon arrival at the Precinct, they booked Jose, and they headed straight for their Captain's office. Only their Captain knew about Dryden although he'd already decided to call his superior, Ryan, and the black man's partner too, and put them on notice of what was going to happen.

When they arrived at the Squadron, a visibly confused Simonetti was also waiting for them in Dobey's office. The Curly-haired detective from Internal Affairs had lost his passionate Italian airs and couldn't help but feel flabbergasted by the news. He was sitting at the Captain's desk without articulate any sound. He knew that unwittingly, he had been functional to such an outrageous situation.

The four men decided to handle their findings with extreme discretion. They knew that the commotion in Metro would be tremendous and since they did not know who was loyal or was not, indeed, neither the side those loyalties dwelt, they should act with caution. It was important not to jeopardize those commitments, actually, so, they should be careful; they could not risk themselves or anyone else.

At this point, there was a lot at stake.

For years, they sought the treacherous within the Department, and now it seemed that they had found him.

The Detectives dedicated themselves to the research. Starsky and Hutch had always doubted about Dryden's loyalty, and it was time to voice those fears. Besides, Starsky had always perceived how much the man from Internal Affairs hated him.

"I'm terribly sorry Starsky. I worked with Richard for more than fifteen years, and I can't believe my eyes that this is happening. I'm sorry again."

Mario Simonetti was ashamed.

While Dobey kept talking with Starsky and Simonetti, little by little Hutch started to withdraw into himself.

_Why hadn't he listened to his instincts?_

Suddenly, all the facts were falling one by one in place inside Hutch's head.

From the attack on the Parking Lot to the new attempt on Starsky's life after the doctors operated him at Memorial. The nearly fatal relapse he had suffered when he had started recovering from an unknown virus that had been proved to be a tainted drug the doctors were administering. Jenny Brown who turned out to be an old lover of Dryden. Jonathan Wells reappearing as Parry's lawyer...

Everything.

Somehow he knew every little thing and misfortune they had suffered was related to Dryden, and what did he do? Nothing. That had been the worst of all.

_How hadn't he realized who Dryden was back then?_

_How come he had not protected his friend?_

Hutch felt visibly broken.

He thought that the only reason that apologized him for such ineffectiveness, such a mistake at the time Gunther's disaster happened, was the fact that, by then, he was incomplete. Starsky, half of his soul, lay near death in a hospital bed without responding to him, or any other stimuli and Hutch could barely move.

_But then, what?_ After the first paralyzing days, after those first moments in utter dismay, there had been other signs, subtle signs that he had ignored. The doctors said that Starsky was going to die so when he found out that Gunther was the one responsible for the attempt, the temptation to catch him was so big that it clouded his thinking.

And then, his partner's miraculous recovery.

The fear, the angst, the uncertainty, and the pain.

The terrible aftermath; the annihilating PT.

The need to cover every space for Starsky, to be there all the time for him, to help him get back… And he forgot about the mole in the Department.

His oversight had been unforgivable.

There were more than enough shreds of evidence to charge the detective from Internal Affairs. They always knew that someone inside the Force had to be the connection with Gunther, the mighty man who was standing still and imprisoned in San Quentin.

Hutch felt relieved that at least, suddenly, he had found his suspect. Only in that way, he thought, he could protect Starsky even more than he had done before and repair his fault. They had their enemy; they had the guilty party of the puzzle their lives had become since that day in the Parking Lot.

Richard Dryden was the missing piece, after all.

From there to keep iron surveillance of James Marshall Gunther was just another step to go, too.

He was sure he would put an end to his nightmares and stamp out his Ghosts. Now his ghost had a body, so he relaxed a little.

That was his worst mistake.

**********************S&H**********************

They decided it was time to go and find Dryden although the black and tall man was nowhere. Neither his partner knew about his whereabouts.

Dobey gathered Babcock and Simmons, Todesco and Howard, the rookie who was working with him, in his Office.

The Captain informed them of their discovery.

He had no other choice.

"Richard Dryden has threatened Starsky through his wife and son. He's coerced him and put him in danger by asking him a physical effort for which he's not yet ready to face. He made him believe that they had been kidnaped." the fat man informed them.

"What?" A visibly shocked chorus of detectives asked him.

They didn't like Dryden, but they couldn't believe how a monster the man had been.

He had wanted to kill Starsky without leaving a trace.

He had wanted to do it many times.

Jose had told them everything.

Dryden had said everything to Jose.

Some mistake the stupid man had done!

The detectives were determined to find him and put an end to the intolerable situation.

Even Simonetti.

They searched for Richard Dryden everywhere.

But he didn't turn up.

**********************S&H**********************

"Starsky, you shouldn't get involved. You ain't clear for work yet. I don't think that it's wise enough to have you on the streets searching for this son of a bitch." Hutch sounded desperate.

"Hutch, would you, please…? You know we're two days away from the day they're gonna tell me that I'm in remission. You know that? Because I AM in remission, am I not? Please, lemme go and nail that bastard. I can be the best of lures."

"Oh, come on! That's insane, buddy. You? The lure? You're crazy for Christ's sake; it's just too dangerous!" Hutch expelled an awkward laugh; he was overwhelmed and astonished, what Starsky was saying was inconceivable. "What are you gonna do? Show yourself in a shop window as if you were an attraction? Come on Dryden, you come and take me? I won't allow you to do so in any way!" Hutch was flustered, to say the least.

"Starsky, Hutch's right, son. You shouldn't risk yourself. Why don't you trust in Babcock, Simmons, and the others? Even Simonetti. He seems to be pretty shocked by the news, and he's more than willing to help you find him." The tempered voice of their Captain tried to soothe him.

"Nothing's gonna happen to me! You must understand! Now it's Cary and Day-Day, who are in danger. How am I gonna stand idly by and doing nothing while there's such a menace over their heads?" the brunet opened his eyes in wonder.

"Caroline wouldn't risk the baby again, Starsky! And now she's well informed about what kind of a man Richard Dryden is," Dobey said reflexively.

"So was she before and she did what she did!" Starsky said his reasons to his Captain and partner. "I don't wanna take any risk again. I have to find him."

"And what about me?" Hutch's shouts came out of the blue; he couldn't help but cry his demons out this time. He was breathing heavy; the blond-haired man was a bundle of nerves. Starsky stayed silent. He was amazed at such a display of brotherly love. He realized how forlorn his partner had become and most of all; he felt beloved. "I don't wanna expose you, risk your life either." Hutch softened his voice and fixed his glassy eyes on Starsky's endless ones. "I no longer have the force to stand anything bad that could happen to you, at least not now that I have you back, buddy. Starsk, please? I need you. I need you to be okay. Help me! I feel like my heart's ripped in two every time you say that you're willing to get outta here to get burnt or to be Dryden's bait! Someone else's gonna find him."

Starsky stayed speechless for some time. His respirations were rowdy. Hutch was suffering, and he realized. His crestfallen partner couldn't hide it anymore. It was true that the baby and Caroline were his priorities, but it was equally true, that Hutch meant the same for him too. He couldn't be selfish; he had been before, and his selfishness had only brought pain and failure in the past. He should take care of his partner. He was his responsibility as well. He couldn't risk their partnership out of love.

He wouldn't do it.

Not again.

"Okay, okay." The brunet smiled the sweetest of his crooked smiles and sighed. "I'll be a good boy. I want you to be sure that nothing's gonna happen to me, buddy. I did not go through all this shit in my life for me not to leave any trace." Starsky's voice cracked with the emotion, he retained a sob and raised his eyebrows to his partner. "I came back from death so many times; I have learned, Hutch. I want you to be okay and calm. I need you too. I'll do whatever you want me to. I also have to take care of you, dummy."

They hugged each other and with Dobey. The captain snorted nervously because of the emotion that he had also contained.

The three men laid out the strategy to go and search for Dryden.

They needed to be extremely cautious.

It was Monday night.

The last Monday of February...

*************************S&H**************************

_"What were you thinking of? You, piece of shit! Are you nuts? You put at risk much of the organization with your irresponsible actions. What did you expect? That his stupid wife would never tell him who she met with? How can I protect you now? They're searching for you under the rocks! You better disappear! Your friend 'Jose' gave you!"_

Someone had called Dryden from Metro.

He decided he was going to go to the woods, or maybe he should go to the sea... or flew away to another country.

Wherever.

He had to escape, although he also knew that he wouldn't make it safe if he didn't ask for help. In fact, he realized that there wouldn't be any safe place at all. So, he made the phone call he didn't want to do but had no way out but to do.

"I screwed up! Big time, Mr. Lancaster. I need your help. I've got all the Force behind me!" Dryden's voice became a whisper on the phone; Paul Lancaster could barely hear.

"Where're you?"

"In a secluded spot somewhere in Big Sur." the cop said feverishly.

"You just said it all. Big Sur's big. Where are you, Dryden? The exact location. I can't help you if I don't know where you are."

Richard Dryden didn't answer.

Paul Lancaster's voice sounded understanding, but he realized that it was urgent too.

Suddenly, the realization hit him.

_What had he done?_

There wouldn't be any safe place for him, not anymore.

Two days later, on Wednesday afternoon the Police found Dryden's body in a room in a Lodge in Big Sur near Los Padres National Forest.

Someone had stabbed him several times until he bled to death.

*************************S&H**************************

"He has no vital signs; he's having a seizure!"

It was 3 A.M.

"Oh, come on! Don't waste our time with this piece of shit! Let him die alone!"

"We can't do that! We're doctors, for Christ's sake. We must help him. Call infirmary! We're gonna take him."

The plan worked flawlessly.

The angel dust left his trace in the ravaged body and smoking the cigarette soaked in the "embalming fluid" provoked the due convulsions. Parry felt a numbness he couldn't describe; he lost his boundaries. His speech slurred, and his pupils dilated. He started convulsing, and his heart rate became nonexistent. He was in ecstasy; one by one, the adverse effects of the drug appeared according to plan.

He was in the nick of times, and he knew.

For four to six hours, Parry would be like the dead, or nearly so.

Enough time to distract the guardians and get rid of the pit of hell he was living in for more than one year already.

The paramedics took him to the Infirmary.

Kantoy had prepared the getaway... the two hundred thousand dollars getaway.

At 10 A.M, he was released.

Someone put him in the laundry basket and took him to the Sacramento Airport. Wells was waiting for him at the Airport. It took them 1 hour and 20 minutes to arrive at a private Hangar at a private airport in the Los Angeles area thanks to Lancaster.

That was his part of the job.

*************************S&H****************************

It was Thursday, the 28th. February, the day Starsky would know.

At two in the afternoon, they arrived at the Hospital.

Murray, Garrahan, Sam, and Goodman were waiting for them.

Starsky was accompanied by Caroline and Hutch.

Little Day-Day had stayed in the beach house. Huggy insisted on staying with the child; besides, he would be responsible for preparing everything.

At night they were going to have a party.

The closest people would hold a reunion. They were going to celebrate that Starsky was in remission. When they entered Murray's Office, the face of the doctors was saying everything.

The news was good.

Starsky had healed.

He was in complete remission; all signs and symptoms of the disease had vanished.

Cancer, with whom he had lived in his body for almost one year, had disappeared. It was gone for over a year already. The two years nightmare had ended.

Two years that they had spent in hell.

"David, you're okay. There's no evidence of the disease. We cannot explain this, indeed, but it did happen. You're a miracle!" Goodman said totally excited. They burst into tears. All of them.

"We can call this a spontaneous regression. The mechanisms of what happened to you are still unknown, but it did happen this time. You have no tumor markers; your CBC is clean and so's your blood protein testing. So to speak, you're healthy now." John Murray felt completely overwhelmed by their findings. He broke and fixed his eyes into Caroline's.

"And how did this happen? We all knew that he was gonna make it but still... Oh! My God, this is incredible!" Hutch was amazed and curious.

"Well, Hutch, there are several reports of spontaneous regressions from cancer occurring after a fever brought on by an infection," Sam said.

Hutch frowned.

"That could explain what has happened to him after the clotting episode last year. I mean, although Cisplatin had made a substantial advance in reducing the tumors since the symptoms began before the infection, the disease in his lungs could have triggered the total remission. I mean the way I see it, pneumonia has been a God's gift." Murray confirmed.

They were elated.

Of course, they couldn't utter a word but Charlie Garrahan, who was marveled at such an incredible outcome, couldn't help but explain his own reasons. "Scientists suggest that it's a possible causal connection. Sometimes the febrile infections lower the risk of developing cancer, but we can't confirm this by now. If this happened or not this time, we'll never know. We only have to wait. For now on, Starsky, you just have to go to see a pulmonologist and start your pulmonary therapy. We all know how much you wanna go and save the City and play hero again, Supercop." the young doctor patted Starsky on his shoulder tenderly.

They smiled comforted and relieved.

The doctors gave Starsky the pulmonologist name. And they even scheduled an appointment with the man for the next week.

Despite Hutch's feelings, the fact that the Police had found Dryden's body the day before was an extra reason to enjoy. It calmed his anxiety. He knew who had been the traitor and that he was already dead. He felt relieved.

Nothing could lessen his sense of triumph. He felt that they had all the reasons to celebrate and relax a little.

Nothing would cloud this day, so they went to the Beach House and started preparing the party.

At seven o'clock Dobey and his family, Simmons, Babcock, Minnie and the doctors were going to toast for life and thank the Almighty for such a showiness of mercy.

There was gonna be a party...

*********************S&H**********************

They arrived at the Mercado La Fiesta and went straight to the rear Entrance.

The man with the three-piece suit was exhausted.

There were only two blocks from the South Gate of Van Nuys Airport to Woodley and 16000 Vanowen St., far enough since they needed to be in a secluded place, until Mad recovers.

"Are you okay?" Wells asked him.

"Yeah, just a little jumbled and confused, but I'm splendid though I feel like throwing up anytime." Parry touched his stomach. He still felt nauseous.

"Hey, the flight was uneventful." the lawyer insisted.

"It was not the trip that made me dizzy. It was that powder you forced me to take. 'Angel Dust'? I ain't no angel!" He smiled, closed his eyes and took a deep breath filling his lungs. "You think that I'm gonna be all right tonight?" he scratched his nape.

"No worries, it'll pass. The dose's been high enough to provoke the symptoms that you had in such a short time, but sufficiently to avoid you the worst of effects set in. You'll feel okay in no time." Jonathan Wells reassured him.

"You know, Johnny? I ended up liking you, creepy man." Parry nodded and smiled.

They were sitting in the den of the house that the Organization had near Van Nuys Airport. Only half an hour from Starsky's house on the beach; they were waiting for Parry to recover from the drug's intoxication.

Wells smiled, too.

"I also like you, Madoc. I want you to reach your goal this time, I mean it."

"I know that, but don't get too soapy, shyster. It doesn't suit you. Besides, this is gonna be the last time we see each other, and I don't want you to miss me." he winked at the lawyer and Wells gave him a knowing smile. "After today, I'm gonna disappear with my David in the ever after. I was born for this day, Johnny. It's been more than forty years," he sighed, "and from tomorrow, I'm gonna fulfill my expectations, finally. I'm anxious."

"Great Expectations I would say."

"Yeah, you can count on that."

They stayed silent for some time, just looking through the window to the busy street. Madoc closed his eyes; he was tired.

"Do you want some coffee?"

The man yawned and rubbed his eyes. He didn't realize and unwittingly had slept for a short time, but Wells had to wake him, he was anxious, too; his client had told him nothing so far about the next steps to follow, and he wanted to know.

"Nah. I uh..., I'm just thirsty."

"Here, take this." and he offered a glass of water.

"Have you already bought what I asked you?" Madoc asked Wells recovered while he stretched; suddenly he was all business.

"I did. Here's the gray wig and the overall." The lawyer opened a shopping bag and showed him, "You're gonna pose as a mechanic or what?" he laughed satisfied.

"Piping Engineer. I'm gonna fix some things, some leaks." Madoc said ironically.

"The leak's already fixed; I have no doubt about it."

"Whaddaya mean?" he scowled curiously.

"It's been two days since I don't talk with Dryden on the phone." Jonathan Wells shrugged.

"So what? Are you dating? You speak as if you talk to him daily."

"Almost." he raised his eyebrows.

"And what does it imply?"

"Like I said, past Monday was the last day I talked to him. He met with his wife and gave him a scare, after that, it seems like he's been devoured by a phantom."

"So? What do you think?" Madoc asked curiously.

The lawyer sighed; he knew damn well the organization's techniques. "According to the usual ways, I don't believe that we can count on him in the future. Such a waste!"

"And what did he do to grant him the 'special treatment'"

"Let's just say that he hadn't Lancaster's favor to do what he did. And that's wrong enough. I'm afraid that his recklessness could have cost him more than he was willing to give."

"You mean that they might have already killed him?"

Wells shrugged.

He was sure.

"I'm gonna miss the man... for a short time!" Parry added.

They both laughed.

The plan was easy.

Parry had all day to prepare the setup. He would kill Starsky the next day, on Saint David's Day as planned, but first, he would enjoy a few moments with his partner.

"What time is it?" Mad asked the lawyer.

"It's half-past four." Wells took a look at his golden wristwatch.

"Okay. By this time, I'm sure that they already know whether David's in remission or not. I'm gonna let them celebrate. I'm sure that they're gonna go to the Beach House." the killer reasoned.

"Yes. That's where Dryden told me they were going to go. He also said that Starsky's wife was sure he was in remission, and she was preparing for a party."

"That's good! everything's okay, It'll be heartbreaking; let's take me to Ian's place."

The lawyer frowned. "Do you wanna go to Ian's place? Man! Would that be wise?"

"Who's gonna suspect anything about a poor workman? I need to be sure that they're gonna stay at Starsky's place for some time. Then, I'm going to Hutchinson's". He lost himself in a reverie. "Before making Starsky, I'm gonna get rid of his partner. But that's gonna happen tonight".

"Are you gonna kill Hutchinson, too?" Wells said astonishingly.

"That's part of the deal, Wells. You said that though they didn't voice it, Lancaster already wanted me to do it. Gunther's instructions. I'm sorry that he's gonna miss the show. I would have loved to invite the blond blintz to such a different installation, but having experienced beforehand how he gets when it comes to David's safety," he shook his head and grimaced. "I wouldn't risk it, and it's better to get rid of the man as soon as possible. Then, kill David's gonna be the coup de grâce."

"And how are you gonna kill the big White Knight? He's pretty fierce, I can also say. I know from my own experience how nuts he can get when it comes to his partner." Jonathan Wells remembered vividly Hutch's visit when Starsky was hospitalized after he was gunned down at the Parking Lot.

"He won't know anything about his partner. I'll wait for him at his place. Alone, before midnight. It'll be easy. He still lives in Venice, doesn't he?"

"Yes, same place."

"Okay. Let's get outta here."

***********************S&H************************

Soon after they told him that he was in complete remission, he went to a bookstore and bought a book for Day-Day.

'Tuck Everlasting,' by Natalie Babbitt.

He also wrote two letters, one for Caroline.

The other one for Hutch.

"You think you're immortal?" she asked him after he gave the baby the book.

Starsky and Caroline were already in their room. Outside, in the kitchen, Huggy and Hutch were busy preparing everything.

"Our love is!" he answered. "I wanna teach Day-Day everything about the life cycle."

She hugged him.

"And what's this? Is this for me?" he had the letters in his left hand.

"Mhm," he said, slowly closing his eyelids.

Like other men breathed, Starsky flirted; he did it continually, consistently, either if it were necessary or not, but above all, he did it naturally. He did it so naturally that for her, it was mind-bending and never seemed to get enough of him.

She shook her head in amazement and took the envelope from his hand, put it over her mouth. She smelt it. She closed her eyes and could feel her husband. The paper had Starsky's fragrance.

His scent was flooding her senses.

"You want me to read it, now?", she said, trying to regain her center.

"Whenever you wanna read it, it'll be okay. It's got eternal words," he winked at Caroline and kissed her. "But you can pamper me a little and do it later while I'm taking a shower."

"That's more like it. I have something for you too."

Starsky raised one eyebrow. He wondered what had she prepared for him.

John Murray had already recommended to the girl that they should take a few days off, a vacation. Going somewhere, far from everything that reminded him of the last months. Taking some time for themselves and making it counts and relaxes so he could be healthy enough to get back to his cop's life, slowly. _'That would be great!'_ Caroline had said enthusiastically. She had something in mind that he was going to love.

Starsky loved the Beach.

She insisted, "You are not gonna ask?" She sounded very intriguing, and Starsky frowned.

"Yeah! I'm curious! So you have something for me? Something else?" He hugged her tight in his embrace, and she blushed.

"Yes, I've got everything else" She giggled nervously, "You know what day's it gonna be tomorrow?" she asked him, still nestled in his strong arms.

"Saturday."

"The date, Dave, the date," she said.

He smiled fondly at the memory and looked at her squinting, "March, 1st."

She nodded mischievously. "You remember the past year? What did you say about the leap year?" she said lovingly.

"Oh, not a sweet memory," he said, realizing the meaning of the date.

"It is. There won't be a 29 this year. We are gonna create the day just for us to celebrate and make a time warp. We are gonna have our own 29th February, and we will pass it by, laugh at it, make it last as if it was a gap of time. This year, and the next, and the next because you'll be with me tomorrow, and you'll be with me forever!" She kissed him, a passionate kiss.

"I'll be, forever."

"And we're gonna celebrate. Forever. This is gonna be a paradise!"

They looked at each other for a long time in ecstasy; there weren't any words to say.

She loved this man with all her being, and that was the most beautiful sensation, the noblest feeling she had ever experienced in her life.

For the first time since they were together, they felt completely at peace, it was a strange and sweet taste.

There weren't any ghosts, nor any sorrows but a long, long future ahead.

"Close your eyes," she told him.

"Mh, I don't trust you," he hugged her.

"Don't you come with me?" she offered him their bed, and he smiled and took her down to it. He sat her on him.

They kissed passionately.

She was straddling him now and stretched over him to get to the nightstand and opened the drawer; her breasts brushed his lips, and he drowned in the anticipation.

"See what I'm telling you? You are treacherous. I'm telling you that I don't trust you!". He said provocatively. He giggled.

"You don't trust me? I do!" she said, sweetly, and put the envelope that she had taken from the drawer over the nightstand. He didn't realize.

"Trust me?" he asked.

"Not you, I trust me!" She smiled, they smiled. "So, will you stay and come with me tomorrow?"

"Where do I have to go?"

"You guess!" she said intriguing.

"Geoffrey's?" he tried to find out.

"Oh, how perceptive you are!" She mocked him, "Nah Nah, detective…," she shook her head no… "A little more far away."

He frowned.

She giggled.

"Where?" he asked.

And she caught the envelope from the nightstand and showed him the plane tickets.

"Hawaii?" he shouted amazed.

"Yes, you and me. Hawaii." she smiled splendidly.

"And what about the kid?"

"Your mother will arrive tomorrow."

"Mom?" he opened his eyes surprised.

"Yes! It was a surprise. She wouldn't have missed the party, but she didn't find a plane ticket for today. So she'll be here tomorrow, and she'll take care of Day-Day while we're away. The moment Hutch lead us to the airport, he'll pick her up and bring her here."

"So you have all sorted out?"

"Ever let you down?"

He smiled."Never. You're perfect! This will be fantastic, Cary. I love you!"

They would enjoy each other, he would regain his health, and he would become stronger and then yes, back to the streets.

They had many reasons to celebrate.

While he entered the bathroom to take a shower, she lay over the linen and opened the envelope.

She couldn't help but cry with emotion at such meaningful words.

_"…The first time I saw you, I knew I wanted to be around you forever. The first time I saw you, I wanted to stamp a quick kiss on your ruby's lips. The first time I saw you, the bluest of the summer's seas of your eyes, stretched around to the insides of my head, filling it completely. Ever since I met you, nobody else but you, were worth thinking of._

_But so suddenly, I realized I had no more space available, and it became even worse when I realized that I had no more air either. I just couldn't breathe. And sadly, it was not because I had seen you. That would have been fantastic, but it was not._

_Then, after kissing you, for the first time, I knew that nothing else was missing. I knew I had it all. But when I tried to touch you and attempted to plan our future together my hand became the red, the dyed red color of blood._

_My blood._

_I was dying._

_I knew I was, and I wanted to keep afloat until eternity with you by my side. However, fate sometimes, during this last year and a half, swallowed me and laughed at me uproariously._

_Many times I couldn't stay afloat, and I drowned in the ages of my endless pain._

_While I was floating in the water, almost lost in the universe forever the upper part of my eyelids were closening and opening. I felt small waves that washed my ears with a pleasant rumor. I heard little voices that were calling my name, tempting me to go after them. Sweet and unforgettable voices. It was a feeling I had never experienced before. So compelling that I wanted to go after them, surrounded by their loving embrace._

_But you grabbed my hand, many times and taught me to roll over and not to keep my eyes shut._

_I imitated you._

_I followed you._

_I opened them slowly never to close them again, and I looked sideways._

_You were there and you were rescuing me._

_After some time, with your mysterious ways, even you helped me rebuild my life. God was on our side too, I can't deny it, and our mutual feeling slowly began to be built from incredible moments of exquisite communion._

_We danced._

_Slowly, but with harmony, and we did it, not only to us but also to the outside world and for our destinies that were made with our longing and mutual understanding._

_That is true love for me, or as I rather say, that's you. My most valid reason and love._

_Our life together is still a succession of beautiful moments, surrounded by the halo of death and its undeniable facts that we will never forget._

_We know._

_I know everything about it._

_Do you believe in fate?_

_I didn't know what to think, until the moment I've met you. Until then, I was just floating around the world trying to do the best I could. I didn't know where my essence was, where it has been, not at least, since Terry's departure. Until I found you and realized, that love was possible, even easier than I thought._

_And just a matter of fate when it happens._

_The touch of the right person at the appropriate time leads to eternity._

_You are my eternity and Day-Day is beyond._

_He is our destiny, the importance of our lives, and our break. Day-Day is the beauty and the crumbs that you left as ashes in my way. He is our way ahead._

_The road I followed._

_And I will always follow._

_Now, Cary, we connect ourselves in an intimate, subtle way. __We are like the lightness of a feather, as bright as a firefly, as soft as a kiss. __We sound like the whisper of a distant ocean; as the wind frolicking among the jacaranda trees._

_That's you. That's me._

_Because you give me your time and your patience -something scarce that should always be valued- something that I'm committed to giving them back to you._

_Because you take care of me like a flower blooming in a garden._

_Because you are life, rather than death which is undeniable and disrupts everything._

_Because you give me everything._

_And I thank you._

_But, above all, because you give me love, not only physical but spiritual love, the kind of love that will always remain with us forever._

_Whether I am here, or I am not._

_We are which matter at all._

_Our spiritual foundations will never be erased. __Our foundations are for real._

_We are two people, one soul, and a moment forever, and that's the way it has been since the first time I saw you._

_I Love you._

_Forever, Dave."_

She couldn't help the tears to come freely and the emotion to conquer her soul.

The moment he opened the bathroom door, she turned around and looked at him. Her watery eyes stuck in him with no words. It was in that instant when they held their breaths; she shook her head, barely achieving to express her feelings.

"Oh, Dave! Your soul shines. I'm crazy for you, I love you so much!"

She hugged him with passion the moment he got into the room, the towel around his waist and still wet.

She had finished reading the letter.

They made love.

One hour later the first of their guests arrived.

************************S&H**************************

"You ready?"

"Yes. We can go now. I think that Hutchinson won't be home until midnight. I'll have enough time to prepare a little welcome for him. You know that I love to give surprises." Madoc Parry laughed; his sight still on the windowpane watching everything that was going on at the beach house in front of Ian's place.

"You should have dressed as Santa, then" Wells added.

"Ho, ho, ho," was Mad's response. "So funny. Let's go."

They left the apartment and went to Venice Place.

They hugged each other, three blocks away from Hutch's place. They both knew that it would be the last time they might see each other. Wells let go, he already also knew, the spot in which Parry had his money safe and waiting for him.

************************S&H**************************

To open the door to Hutch's apartment proved to be a simple task for Madoc.

He felt relieved.

He couldn't fathom the reason that after all these years, the blond cop insisted on keeping the spare key over the lintel.

It was 10 Pm, the 28th of February.

* * *

**ACT 49\- IN THE NICK OF TIMES-**

"How long has he been here? It's 10 PM."

He lit a cigarette and sat at his desk. He started playing with his wrist-watch, nervously.

"Two hours, already. I couldn't leave because of him." She said annoyed. "He was waiting for you."

"Did you tell him that I'm not gonna make any appointments for tomorrow because I have a very busy agenda?" he said flustered.

"He doesn't wanna see you tomorrow." his Secretary said bluntly.

"What do you mean?" the lawyer scowled.

"He wants to see you now. He said that he could wait."

The attorney stood nervously, "I'm not going to talk to him. That's final. You can go and tell him."

Rebecca waited for some time until her boss paid attention again and insisted. "The man seems to be quite desperate and anxious, Mr. Wells."

"I don't give a damn. I have nothing to tell him!" he almost shouted.

"He insists."

Jonathan Wells felt uncomfortable with such an unexpected visit. It was a surprise. The man had been a mystery until today. He even thought that he was dead. "And what does he want?"

"He refused to say. He told me that he's got something significant and private to discuss with you."

"Something important?" He released a hysteric chuckle. "And he chooses this day among the others!" he shook his head.

"Well, he said that it was about time. I don't know, Mr. Wells. I'm sorry, but I have to go. Do you want me to call the guards to try to get rid of him?" she finished impatiently.

He took time before giving his secretary an answer. He wondered what the man might want, what he might need to know now.

During the last year, he had developed a particular affection, a sort of friendship with Madoc, and he had never fathomed the possibility to meet him.

Such an encounter was unthinkable.

In fact, he had never discussed the man's existence with his client before.

So far, he had always been a ghost. Even sometimes he was sure that he was already dead, but that was an issue that he had never dared to discuss with the shorter man either; so the visit was frankly unexpected, and also unwanted. Above all, he didn't want to theorize about it or remember his client.

He had already said goodbye to Madoc.

For now, he only wanted his money and to forget everything about him.

The sudden appearance of this man in his life could be an obstacle to his plans, but he was curious, and he wanted to meet him. He should find out. Just in case, he had to have every 't' crossed, and every 'i' dotted.

He couldn't risk his future, neither if it meant to get rid of this man.

He would do it; he would get rid of him if he needed to.

"Okay. I'll receive him. In a few minutes; hold my calls for some time and then you can go, Rebecca."

*********************S&H************************

"And what are you gonna do next?"

He was relaxed, with his arms folded over his head and his legs over the coffee table and watching his friends enjoying themselves. "I don't know. I guess that enjoy my life, first. This time I'll take good care of me, for all my loved ones and myself. I also will care for the people who love me."

"We're a hell of a lot of people."

"Who are you?"

"The ones who love you." Minnie stayed mesmerized by Starsky's fantastic blue eyes. It had always been that way; she had always been delighted in front of him; the man bewitched her, invariably but that day his eyes shone even more than ever.

He smiled shyly and grateful; seductively lowered his blink rate in a way no one but he could manage to do. "Well, I guess that I'll be very busy, then. I'll have a lot of work to do."

"You can bet on that." Minnie looked in Hutch's direction, sighed and then said. "For starters, gorgeous, you might begin with that big guy over there."

Hutch was singing aloud with his guitar; rare in him, but that night it seemed that he had lost all the shyness that he used to have. He was euphoric, and it showed.

He was visibly drunk too.

"Yeah, he's one of my primary concerns." Starsky chuckled.

"Why?" the woman asked curiously.

"Because he loves me more than his life." the brunet shrugged.

Minnie smiled, thrilled. Starsky also smiled. She stroked his face in wonderment and with tenderness. "Oh, my sweet man!" Minnie said motherly.

It was true.

Hutch loved Starsky more than he loved his own life. Hutch would do anything for him, anything to protect his friend and that commitment, proved to be a very dangerous task for Starsky to fulfill.

However, it was a matter of reciprocity.

Hutch, also knew that Starsky would do everything, whatever to protect him. He would give everything, even his life if it were necessary. He had already done it before.

Many times.

Starsky smiled a boyish smile and blushed.

He was happy too.

Twas the night of his life, his new life, and so, they were all happy.

Everyone was in good spirits and delighted with the news so they couldn't help but enjoy the party gleefully and to its fullest.

They ate and drank, and danced and laughed and played.

_'All I want is black bean soup, and you to make it with me...!';_

_'We are the champions, my friends, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end. We are the champions. We are the champions. No time for losers. 'Cause we are the champions of the world.'_

They sang.

They hugged each other and sang aloud.

The moment Starsky took the microphone and sang for Caroline, 'Something in the way she moves,' she broke.

"Oh, Dave. You're jaw-dropping." The woman burst into tears and kissed him. And everybody clapped their hands until they became red; even little Day-Day, who seemed to be so excited, that couldn't help but jump frantically in his jumperoo.

The celebration turned into a sing-along party, so they cranked up the volume and rocked the place excitedly.

"This is quite an oddity, but it still doesn't matter today, does it?" John Murray smiled at Caroline and whispered in her ear. He was a little tipsy too and had just sung for the first time in his life in front of an audience.

"But you did well, John! I didn't know you could sing!" Caroline encouraged him. "When you decide to give up saving people's lives, you can get yourself a musical career, doctor."

"Thanks, Carol!" The doctor laughed out loud, "Yes, I can sing a whole damn opera now, having David recovered is - is quite inspiring." The doctor nodded.

"Yeah, I feel the same." And she sighed, her eyes got lost in the good-looking man who had completely changed her life's shaft.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I propose a toast. Now, that the beautiful Mr. and Mrs. Starsky is here, I need to share a few thoughts, I wanna say some things." Dobey announced pompously, and everybody gathered around him. "First of all, I wanna congratulate you, Caroline, for having been fortunate enough to have been chosen among from the long line of women who wanted to be with your husband." He mocked Starsky and smiled at Caroline, "and I wanna congratulate you, Dave, because you have chosen the right one."

"You are right about that interminable line you're referring to, Captain. I've seen fewer chicks in the rows at Disneyland's Attractions than at Starsky's desk any given day." Sam shouted out of character. He chuckled and hiccuped; he was drunk and overjoyed too. They all laughed.

"That's what we were talking about here with our trashy boy, Caroline. How popular he is! You know that I used to call him 'trashy boy'?" Minnie asked the woman and tried to divert the attention to such an awkward topic, "but that was all before you, girl. I can tell you that our boy here's the most faithful and loving man I've ever met, and he's nuts about you…" Minnie ended, and Caroline smiled, elated; she did know.

"However, I guess that there's more to him than that, isn't there?" Dobey thought that talking about those issues would bother the young lady a little. They were all drunk, and he didn't want the night to end in an unexpected outcome.

Besides, there were so many tales to tell...

A sketch of Ramon here, the flashy pimp O'Brien over there, the sounds of disco music and Fats Domino... The indecipherable Rudy Skyler, grouchy Renaldo and Christmas, and burritos and hot dogs and donuts, everything referring to Starsky's most significant features, were a good excuse to enjoy. All the memories of their lives together were scattered around the living room and without falling into sad memories or nostalgia.

All night long, things were that way.

Starsky sometimes felt that he was a mere spectator.

The show, his life.

His friends and everybody else were putting on a lovely display for him, to celebrate him, and he was grateful. He decided to relax and enjoy the happy moment with his full conscience; moreover, since he couldn't drink he was soberer than everybody else who were all tipsy except Dobey and Huggy.

Starsky's spirit and his joie de vivre were enough excuse to trigger those unforgettable feelings for everybody. Therefore, after the chords of Blueberry Hill started, Hutch started laughing nervously and suddenly said. "Thanks, buddies. I thank you all for everything. I'm as emotional as I could get; without you, I wouldn't have survived the pain and the sorrow; you helped me pass through the bitterest times in the best way possible. When you were sick Starsk, I felt so alone… without you, the world has no reason to be. Frankly, the lack of you is unthinkable." He broke, full of emotion and raised his eyes to his buddy, who was also excited and speechless in the center of the room. Hutch shook his head; he felt mellow. "The extent you went, Starsk, how far you came buddy, for me to become another victim of your euphoric sentimentalism, didn't you?" He said as he dried a rebel tear that rolled down his face, and they all smiled in earnest. "Cary, Dobey, Huggy, Sam, all of us here, we're trying to tell you that you're indelible, Starsk; a part of us that will never disappear; that'll never be erased."

It was 10 PM.

***********************S&H*************************

"Mr. Wells?"

The secretary opened the door to the lawyer's fancy office.

"Thanks, Rebecca. You can go home now. It's late." She bowed her head and let the guest enter.

The visitor stood still at the threshold.

Jonathan Wells felt out of place. A feeling of discomfort and curiosity invaded him. He couldn't describe it. It was forcefulness. The man was powerful. He seemed magnificent and imposing, also scary.

The meeting was not an ordinary one.

The body language of the strange man openly spoke about the fact that his decision to be there had not been a rushed one. His piercing cobalt-blue eyes seemed to be able to unlock all the doors and give all the answers. His light blond and straight hair looked rebellious and undisciplined; the man reminded Wells of someone he couldn't pinpoint.

His slow and controlled movements revealed that the visit had been long planned.

It was the planning of one lifetime.

"Take a seat." the lawyer offered.

"Thank you. I'm very pleased to meet you." The handsome old man unbuttoned his black jacket suit and sat.

Jonathan Wells thought for a moment what to say. _What would be the appropriate response?_ "I'm not so sure about it. I never thought that this would happen, that you were going to try to contact me, either to come here," The lawyer intertwined his hands on the desk. Strangely, he felt as if he was cuffed.

"Are you surprised?" the man muttered.

The lawyer tilted his head, the man's demeanor was at least, disturbing. "And I also am curious. What are you doing here? What do you want?"

The man approached the desk, still sitting on the black upholstered chair.

Jonathan Wells got startled and lit a cigarette. The man took some more time until he answered. "I want you to help me." He lowered his voice, "I need your help to provoke an approach."

"An approach?" Wells gave a wry look as he puffed on his cigarette.

"Exactly."

The lawyer smiled. "I don't think that I understand you," and he left his cigarette in the ashtray. He kept his eyes on it and out of his visitor. The ash started getting longer and longer.

"I think you do. You know who I am and who I am looking for." the man said calmly.

"I'm afraid that it is already too late," the lawyer raised his head, stood and motioned the visitor to leave. "You know now where you can find me."

However, despite Wells' intentions, the old man remained sat; he didn't move, he didn't flinch, didn't turn around; with the lawyer behind him, he managed to say.

"I do not like people who put me on, Mr. Wells; much less, rude people". The cadence of his voice was slow and at the same time authoritative. There wouldn't be any return for this man, and Wells realized. The die was cast, and there wouldn't be any way out. "Don't be rude to me," he continued saying after a few moments "because I'll stay. Therefore, I urge you to tell me where he is. I need to iron up all the differences that I have with him."

The lawyer sat again. Something about the man's eyes told him how desperate and determinate he was. "I don't think I have much information to offer you," he answered.

"I'm not so sure that I can say the same. I'm sure that you can give me the proper one." the visitor said firmly.

Jonathan Wells lit the second cigarette in less than five minutes. The last butt was still balanced in the ashtray while the gray embers collapsed leaving the imprint of his incineration. "What are you doing here? What are you looking for? I thought you were dead." the shyster asked him astonishingly.

"It seems like I'm not. Listen, Mr. Wells," the handsome old man approached the desk again rashly; his urgency was something he couldn't hide. Not anymore. "I need you. I appreciate what you have done for him, so far, but I'm afraid that I have not much time left, and I need to talk to Madoc." Suddenly, his iron armor disappeared, and Wells could see a weak old man, asking for mercy. "I need to see him," he continued, "I went to Folsom, and they told me that he's been hospitalized. Where's he?" the visitor insisted, "Please?" he retained a sob that struggled to get out. For a few seconds, the old man thought whether he should tell the lawyer how distraught he was or he shouldn't. But then he couldn't falter, so he recovered and regained the coldness for so long elaborated.

The lawyer took some time again to gather his thoughts.

In a flashback, all the past year deployed in his mind. All the things that Mad had said, the feelings he had hidden. The pain and the sorrow that dwelt in his client's eyes matched the same sorrow and suffering that the strange visitor had in his.

A feeling of righteousness occupied his mind.

_"What if I can help Madoc to get what he has never had?"_ The lawyer thought that he was witnessing a twist of fate. As a lawyer, he hadn't been able to prove that Parry was crazy. However, he knew in his heart, that all the terrible things that the welsh had done were merely the expression of a feeling of sorrow for so long hosted in his soul. So much time, since forever.

He was in front of that pain.

Now he had it all. He had Madoc's money, and Madoc's money had been all that he had wanted. All that he had been worth.

_"What if I can help him?"_

After all, he had grown fond of his client.

He surprised himself at such a feeling of mercy that he was experiencing and was not familiar with.

_"What if I'm a compassionate and caring man at last?"_

Parry was his friend, and he didn't want to lose him either. Perhaps he could change the course of things. Save him. The man in front of him sounded genuine and final.

Everything was coming to its end.

"He's free," Wells said, still unsure whether he had made the right decision or not.

"He can't be." The unexpected visitor said surprised.

"What?" the lawyer frowned.

"He won't be free until he talks to me."

Wells nodded, "I meant that he's escaped, from Prison."

"I know what you say, but he's not ready for freedom."

Wells squinted, he couldn't help but feel sick of the manipulative man, and he regretted being so trustful and naive to have talked to him "You're a cynic person. You want him to be in prison forever? I suppose that you hate him too, don't you?"

"I wish it could be that simple, Mr. Wells. Love and hate. You think that I hate him? As you said, you only suppose, just that, and you don't know. Let me tell you, lawyer, that I don't deal with hypotheticals. I think in terms of absolutes. Facts, Mr. Wells. I'm here, and that's a fact. The past is just that, the past, it's gone. I'm trying to redeem myself. I hated him for what he was. Now I love him for what he's worth."

"So get off and set him free."

"That's why I came here."

"But you said that he shouldn't be. I don't understand you."

"Have you heard Macmillan's words?"

Jonathan Wells frowned at the riddles that his visitor talked and was proposing, and he tilted his head. The old man stood, and went to the windowpane, stayed for a few minutes in silence watching the life out there. "You see those birds?" he said, "They're in their nests; the old ones are taking care of the younger. Macmillan said 'No people ought to be free until they are fit to use their freedom, neither go into the water until they had learned to swim.'" He turned around to face his host who was still sitting in his chair. "If Madoc is to wait for liberty until he becomes wise enough, he may indeed wait forever, Mr. Wells. He's not fit yet. He's never been. I've always tried to protect him. And I failed, miserably, but now I know that he won't be free until he forgives me."

Jonathan Wells took some time to analyze the words that he was hearing.

The man's security was overwhelming, unbearable; rightly his friend had felt so diminished in his presence. The man looked like he could do everything and that he knew everything. He was strong, powerful and daring. He was wise too.

"You're arrogant and pedantic. Why should I have to believe in you? You might have decided to look for him before, but until now, you did nothing to approach him. Why now?"

"Because I'm dying, and I want to give him his freedom. I need him to forgive me, and he needs to forgive me and forgives himself." The handsome old man took time, his voice cracked at the possibility that he would burst into tears. He was ashamed and regretful and not yet familiar with the new feelings that after his diagnosis was coursing through his empty soul; but he decided that it was about time to experience what he had before denied to himself. So he embedded his cobalt blue eyes in those of the feeble lawyer in front of him and begged, for the first time in his cursed life. "So please, where's my son?"

*******************S&H*********************

"Hutch, come on, buddy. You've already drunk enough."

Starsky was lifting the glasses and plates from the floor. The room was a complete mess he could no longer tolerate.

"Do you think so?" the blond-haired man giggled. He was spread-eagled on the plaid couch.

"I think so. Why don't you leave that glass over there? This way, you ain't gonna be able to drive." Starsky sounded compelling, he sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"You don't miss any opportunity to remind me that you're a better driver than I am, don't you, Mario Andretti?"

Starsky had begun to feel upset, increasingly bother. Sometimes the alcohol and the arrogant nature of his partner were bad company. He sighed, tiredly. This one turned out to be one of those times.

"Hutch!"

"I was just joking, buddy. Hey, Do not fret!" the blond-haired man opened his arms trying to excuse himself.

Starsky shook his head and stood. "You're drunk! You better go to bed, you'll stay here."

"Oh, no! I'm okay, I'm all - all right." Hutch hiccupped.

"No, you're not. Look at you!" Starsky said and tried to raise his buddy from his right arm.

Hutch dodged him. "I'm excited! Not drunk, that's all!" the big blond said with glassy eyes.

"I know. I am too. But you're on a spree, buddy!" the curly-haired man opened his eyes and raised his thick eyebrows.

"Of course I am, Starsk! We have to celebrate, you - you being here like this, it - is incredible." Hutch could barely find adequate words.

The brunet smiled. "What happened seems to be amazing… yeah, I know," Starsky said reflexively. "Yeah, as if it wasn't true" he sat again, "Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll wake up from this dream and tomorrow my world will be all wrong again," the brunet shook his head. He was excited too.

"But it is real, buddy. Fucking real. Nothing bad's gonna happen tomorrow!" Suddenly the blond man seemed to be focused again.

"Yeah…" Starsky said in a whisper, barely.

And Hutch broke.

His eyes were filled with excitement and a bottled-up tension that he had held for so long because of fear. Those feelings now had turned into a piece of happiness that he hadn't dared to release before. Now it was the time, and it was true.

Starsky was alive, and he would live. Starsky healed.

There were no danger or ghosts. Even Dryden had disappeared. Nothing could go wrong now.

Together, they were going to live forever.

They felt exhilarated.

The party was coming to its end.

Their happiness was beginning.

Their lives were going to restart slowly.

Everything was going to be okay from now on.

They knew.

The Dobey's and the others had gone a while ago. At this time of the night, they were only Starsky, Huggy and him. Caroline had already gone to bed, too. Little Day-Day had asked her mother to go and pamper him and read him a book before sleeping, and she had already fallen asleep at her child's side. She also was exhausted.

The three men were alone, sitting in the Beach House's living room.

Starsky insisted that Hutch was in no condition to ride his car at all. The brunet wanted him to stay at the beach house, like in the good old days and he insisted. "You'll stay like you always did when in this condition, and tomorrow you'll take us to the airport from here."

"It is not the way it was, Starsk. I can't stay. I don't wanna stay."

"Everything is the way it was," Starsky answered bluntly.

Hutch laughed, excitedly. He understood what Starsky was saying. "But it is not. I feel like Cootie Brown and Al Capone, all together." the blond-haired man closed his eyes tightly at the beginning of a migraine.

"You really?" Starsky shook his head and smiled. "Oh, you big lummox!"

"Starsk! I don't want Cary to see me like this! I'm ashamed."

Starsky laughed. Hutch smiled and cried, too.

Undoubtedly he was drunk. Completely drunk.

"You see, buddy?" The brunet stroked the silk threads of blond hair of his friend, lovingly, "These are the benefits of having your best friend with a 'delicate liver condition.' You can drink like a fish that I'm here, as cool as a cucumber and ready to take care of you."

"You always did, even when you could get drunk with me." the blond said melancholically.

"And I always will!" he made a pause and added, "So, you do stay!"

Starsky crouched beside him, and Hutch hugged him and started crying, disconsolately.

"Hey Hutch, don't cry, buddy!"

"You never leave me, please! I love you, Starsk. You're so fine and good..." He sighed. "The best friend I could ever think of, so far. I don't deserve you."

Starsky rolled his eyes to Huggy and made a gesture.

It was no use getting maudlin, particularly in the state Hutch was in.

They had already experienced enough drama.

"Okay, Starsky!" Huggy said boastfully. "You're tired, come on! You stay here with your child and wife. I'm gonna give him the ride."

"No!" Hutch said firmly. "No way!"

"C' mon, Captain America, Starsky's tired, I'll take you home." Huggy insisted.

"No, no and no!" Hutch said like a spoiled brat. "I wanna stay with my buddy. Starsky, please?" he sought for his partner's eyes as if Huggy was some menace.

The way Hutch begged for his friend took Huggy and Starsky himself by surprise. Something about Hutch's tone sounded urgent and desperate.

"Hey, blond beauty! What's cracking? If you wanna stay with him, then stay here, man." Huggy reasoned.

"No, no, I can't stay, not in the way I am." Hutch stammered nervously.

The brunet realized that it would be hard to convince his partner otherwise. The man could be as stubborn as a mule and worst, without taking into account how bent he was.

"It's okay, Hug. I'll get him home, I'll take care." Starsky winked his eye at the slim man.

"No!" Hutch repeated once again. It looked like it was the only word he could muster at the time. "Nobody takes me home. I came alone to this world; I'm going alone."

Huggy rolled his eyes. "Oh, man! Now you're philosophizing!"

Hutch started laughing hysterically and tried to stand, hardly achieving it.

He put the legendary Hutchinson's finger on airs while repeated 'I'm leaving alone' again and again. He didn't seem to listen to Huggy's voice.

He almost fell, and Starsky stood up to help him get up.

"I catch you; I catch you! Siddown, Hutch! Take it easy."

"I'm okay, I'm all right. I can do it, I can do it." And he stammered "D - Don't touch me."

Starsky rolled his eyes again. "You can't, buddy. Lemme help you."

"What are you trying to suggest? That I'm an invalid here? Come on, pal. We're at 100%. You and me, we're back."

"Yeah, you and me! Some pair we are." Starsky reasoned.

"Yes! From this day on we're gonna eat, drink and be merry," the blond said raising his finger.

"I don't plan to die tomorrow," Starsky said thoughtfully.

"It's just an idiom, pal. Nobody's gonna die tomorrow." Hutch hiccupped for the umpteenth time. "No, no. We're at our bests! Safe and sound."

"Sure we are," Starsky said amusingly.

At this point, the situation was utterly funny and bizarre. Hutch didn't want to bother his friend. However, he was giving him the hardest of times in decades.

Starsky had to hold to the blond who was still saying things at a frantic rate. Hutch laughed and cried and was completely unable to coordinate, neither his thoughts nor his feelings. The blond was experiencing a kind of crush with the very happiness he could barely keep at bay. He felt that he had the power to conquer everything; that life itself was at his mercy.

He felt blissful.

A sense of joy that he couldn't describe embraced him.

"Okay, Starsky. Whaddaya want me to do.?" Huggy asked Starsky while the brunet was still fighting Hutch to sit down.

"You better go, Hug. No worries. I'll wait for a little time for him to get better and then I'll take care of the drunkard here!"

"I'm telling you, mush brain, and you don't seem to listen. What's going on? Are you deaf? I'm not drunk! I'm just happy!" Hutch sat, and attempted to grab another glass of beer and threw all the contents on the floor.

"I know you are! Be calm, buddy." Starsky said while he took the cloth to clean the mess.

"We're all euphoric, Hutch." Huggy hurried to say. "But you better let me take you home! Be reasonable. Why don't you lemme do it, uh? Otherwise tomorrow we'll have to search for you in a filthy alley or worst, in all the County's Hospitals. You are in no condition to drive." he said, reflexively. "And Curly here, look at him! We don't want him to overdo it, do we? He's also tired, and I hafta go. I'm your best option. I'll take you home".

"You're exaggerating!" Hutch said to Huggy.

"I'm not exaggerating! I'm just stating the obvious, you're too drunk to notice, man… look at him! Curly is beaten!"

Hutch laughed indignantly "What? What are you insinuating? For Christ's sake! What are you trying to suggest, that I'm selfish or… or not thinking about my pal, here? Who arrogates those rights to you over him, eh? Starsky's not tired! What are you suggesting? Starsky's okay! Whaddaya think, uh Hug? You think that you can take care of him better than I do, don't you? Come on, tell me, uh?" the flaxen-haired man said menacingly.

"Oh, Hutch I don't think that I can take care of him better than you! But I believe that Starsky shouldn't get tired, and he's visibly tired whether you wanna see it or not! Look at him!"

It was the worst choice of words that Huggy could have made. Hutch was enraged.

"You think that you're better than me, don't you? That you love him more than I do! You wanna separate us, again. You always wished that you could separate us, uh?"

"Hutch!" Starsky shouted at him and tried to stop him, but it was no use.

"Don't Hutch me, pal! It's about time we tell the truth." Hutch continued, "You're jealous, Huggy. You never understood our bond, our relationship. You never accepted me! You have already betrayed me before. You're a traitor. Deal with it! What you've done to me when he was...You've already challenged me enough times with Starsky in the past, and I'm fed up, you know? I won't allow it anymore. Starsky is my friend, only mine, and I'm his friend too! We choose each other every single day where it counts, out there in the streets. Two's okay, three's a damn multitude!" Huggy stayed silent and dumbfounded and also visibly hurt. "Yeah! You understand damn well what I'm saying here!" Hutch answered himself to the unanswered question likewise. "As the saying goes, buddy, A drunk mind speaks a sober heart! That's what you're thinking of, uh, Hug? Doesn't it, Huggy?" the blond finished mockingly. "Well, think about it, man, because I mean it!"

Hutch was releasing his demons, his past misunderstandings. In fact, from time to time, that's the way it had been, since the day that he had realized that the lean man had hidden Starsky's cancer from him.

He still felt hurt, especially with Huggy.

As if he hadn't been able to forgive.

Starsky tried to lower the tension.

"You're making no sense, Hutch. Exaggerated or not, that's the way it's gonna be, he will take you home" Starsky announced in front of a still astonished Huggy trying to support him. He was in awe and grimaced in pain; sometimes the old-time friend couldn't forgive himself either.

"No, Starsky. Hutch's right. If he wants you to be the one who takes him home, I've got no problem with that. It's okay. You sure aren't wiped out?" Huggy didn't look into the blond's direction anymore.

"I'm a bit, but it's okay. I'm all right." he tried to comfort Huggy.

"Okay, so consider me gone."

"Hey Hug, wait," Starsky murmured and tried to reach him to explain again what was going on with Hutch unable to find the proper words.

"It's okay, sure," the lanky man whispered and comforted him.

Starsky nodded; he realized how regretful Huggy felt. He had talked with him many times, many other times when Hutch had already voiced his resentment toward the black man and Sam and Dobey.

"Sure? I wish you could understand that he's so canned that he - he..." Starsky shook his head. "You stay with him. I'm gonna grab his jacket and the car's keys."

"My car, Starsk!" Hutch shouted, entirely forgotten of how harmful he had been toward their dear friend. "I came here driving my car; I'm going home in my set of wheels."

"Forget it! I ain't gonna ride in that piece of junk that you so like to call a car. Tomorrow, you'll be sober enough to come here and pick it up when you take us to the Airport. I'm taking you home, but riding my cah…" He took the jacket and tossed it up to Hutch.

"I better go," Huggy said dejectedly.

"It's okay, Hug! Hey, he's boozy, you know? Cheer you up. He'll forget everything by tomorrow." Starsky patted Huggy on his shoulder. The man was still overwhelmed by the conversation.

"What's he saying?" Huggy frowned and asked Starsky quietly.

"I dunno! Sumthing about the Torino. Rather I drive it instead of the Camaro. He's impossible to talk with at this time."

"The Torino. I want you to drive our Torino." Hutch's cries were increasingly high from behind when Starsky began accompanying Huggy to the door.

Starsky shushed him. "You see? He's so out of it that he wants me to drive the Torino of all things. He even called her 'Ours.'" The brunet laughed in disbelief and winked to Huggy. "Hug, you know that he doesn't hold any grudge against you, don't you? It's just the buzz."

"Yeah, I know. Be calm. It was wrong what I did back then, but I did it, and I deserve this. I just couldn't face you at the time… yeah, somehow I can't forgive me myself either but… it's okay you're right, Curly, he is sloshed. You enjoy your big time with the big lummox. I leave him in the best of hands". They hugged each other, and when they separated Huggy said "Everything's in its place, fortunately! I just wanna tell you that I'm so damn happy, buddy." and his voice faltered

"Yeah, me too, Hug. It's marvelous to be alive."

Starsky cracked with emotion, and so did Huggy; they hugged each other again.

"You know, Starsky, sometimes I think that you should die together." the taller man had his sight over the nonsensically blond who was still babbling words.

"In a blaze of glory?" Starsky smiled excitedly.

"You name it! Sort of, but none of you can survive the other's absence. You are, the two of you, or you are not. Without one of you, the show ends."

"And it almost did…"

"Yeah, too many times." Huggy sighed and shook his head worriedly. "I wish this is the last one."

"I wish it could have the expected ending."

"You're right, I wish it could be happy," Huggy said at last.

Starsky nodded and smiled.

"Yeah, I wish that too. And although we know that somehow the end's gonna happen, sadly, I hope it'll still take enough time to come. We're having too good a ride together, haven't we?"

Huggy smiled, thrilled by the moment.

"Amen to that," he said finally.

Huggy left.

Starsky closed the door.

It was 10.30 PM.

After Huggy had gone, Starsky retook his position at his buddy's side.

Hutch was enough out of it that he dozed for some minutes. Starsky wished that the blond could end up sleeping on the couch at his house like he always did. He was beaten to death, and he didn't feel like driving, but then, if he had to, he'd do it.

They stayed in that way, without saying any words and nursing themselves. They undoubtedly loved each other, and it had been a long time.

Suddenly Hutch put his hand into his jacket's pocket.

He found the letter.

"Buddy, please? Why don't you read it sober? We're both tired, and it'll make no sense for you." Starsky said.

"Nah," Hutch said, and he started reading.

_"...You gave me a cloth to dry my tears._

_You showed me the way when I had lost it._

_You gave me the strength to face my destiny._

_You gave me warmth when I was cold. _

_You gave me your blood when I was almost emptied._

_You gave me hope when I was so close to the end._

_You gave me a reason to fight when I was dejected. _

_You gave me everything forever. _

_Without you, I am not._

_Starsk"_

"Oh, Starsk! These words make all the sense to me." Hutch said thrilled.

"C'mere." The brunet said, and they hugged again and hooked one last glance.

"Memory slips, letters remain. Thanks, buddy!" the blond said heartily.

Starsky winked to his soulmate and finally said, "We're our memories together, Hutch and we ain't gonna disappear whatever's gonna happen; we ain't gonna disappear. Come on, let's go."

**************************S&H****************************

To climb the Ladder of Venice's Place turned out to be not an easy task.

It took an enormous effort to Starsky to help the big blond achieve it since aside from the fact that he was drunk, he also was lethargic.

"I feel the way you felt when Bellamy happened, pal." Hutch stammered softly.

"Oh, fabulous memories, buddy! At least we don't have to climb a seven-story building this time. Come on, relax and help me help you. I cannot hold you as if we were a pair of newlyweds."

"I did it for you before," Hutch said soberly.

Starsky smiled. "Of course you did, but you always wanted to marry me," he laughed out loud. He was so damn happy. "Come on, come on!"

"That is exactly what we should've done, you and me, partner." Hutch reasoned briefly, "To hell with everything."

The brunet frowned, "Get married?"

"Yes, of course. But Caroline had to come in between us and ruin everything" Hutch laughed at his attempt at humor.

They liked to joke about their feelings.

"You're right, buddy. Except for when you get drunk, and you turn into a dead body too heavy for me to carry and in bed, I would rather like you than she."

"Why not in bed? I'm a pretty boy."

"Yes, you are! Except your eyebrows come down for a drink too often. I truly would have chosen you, Hutch! But you often insist on growing that Crumb Catcher of yours!" Starsky shook his head seemingly disappointed.

"Ah, that."

"Yeah, just that." Starsky regained his position supporting his friend to climb the ladder. Hutch put a death grip on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Nothing but that?" the flaxen-haired man became cuddly and seductive.

"Well, maybe because of some other things instead. But do not kid yourself."

"You're breaking my heart." he pretended that he was crying. "Anyway, you know Starsk that I'll always be waiting for you, don't you?"

Starsky laughed openly at last. They used to play this game many times, like when John Blaine died. "Let's go, heartbreaker! Penelope's tale has been already written," the Brunet said boastfully.

"They could redraft it to adapt it to my style! Besides, don't know anything about crochet," Hutch said mischievously.

"Neither do I! When I get upstairs, you can start dictating. Come on, only two steps are missing. Gimme the keys."

Starsky opened the door. The blond still hung from his shoulder.

He managed to get Hutch into the house; the instant he entered, the taller man spilled on his couch in the living room.

"I'm thirsty, Starsk. I didn't drink anything." He started laughing, tempted.

"Hey, buddy, it's 11.30 PM, and from 6 PM 'til now, you've done nothing but drink. You're gonna get drowned! That thirsty you are? Come on, get up, and you go to bed, it's bedtime now. " he patronized his partner.

"No, let's do some chatting, please? For a while?" Starsky rolled his eyes and sighed, tiredly. "I told you I was very excited with your letter?" the blond man started yet another topic of conversation.

Starsky shook his head, it seemed that Hutch couldn't or didn't want to let him go, "Yes, you told me! And tomorrow if you want to discuss it, we can do it word by word, but not now," he raised his eyebrows.

"But let's talk!" Hutch stopped him again for the umpteenth time. He felt something he couldn't describe, a hunch, a premonition, but he didn't want to waste any time explaining the feeling to Starsky. He knew he wouldn't make any sense.

He grabbed his partner by the lapel when he tried to stand and begged with his eyes, "Sometimes I feel like time bypasses us, buddy, and I want this moment never ends. How long it's been since we don't do something like this, uh? I wanna be like this forever; you and me like in the good old days." Hutch started getting emotional.

Starsky stroked his cheek and gave him a tender and paternal kiss on his forehead.

"Enough time, buddy, but you're drunk. We don't need to do this now; we'll have plenty of time in the future. We can enjoy ourselves tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow and the day after but sober. Believe me, soon we'll be able to back out together and get drunk in our mutual company too, but for today, it's enough. Besides, I'm too tired, Hutch, and I don't wanna Cary to get worried, she'll wake up, and she won't find me at home."

Starsky tried to tell him the truth, bluntly. He was tired, and the blond understood.

"Okay, go with it," He laughed again and allowed Starsky to grab him from his armpits to try to make him stand.

With an effort, he stood.

"Come, come, you lay here," Starsky said lovingly.

He took him to the bedroom and tuck him in bed.

They never knew that someone was waiting crouched in the greenhouse. 

************************S&H*************************

"I'm going with you."

"No! I've gotta do this alone. Please, give me the address."

"You shouldn't! I don't think so. It can be very dangerous. I don't know how your son could react." Jonathan Wells tried to explain him.

"It doesn't matter now. How will my son behave? He's waiting for this moment since he's been born."

"He isn't expecting you. He has other plans."

The old man closed his eyes. "Is he gonna kill again? That cop?"

Wells stayed silent for a brief moment. "You know about him?"

"I know everything, so maybe this time I can stop him. Mr. Wells, Jonathan, the more I stay here, the more damage he could cause, and it makes our conversation even more pointless indeed. Worst of all, someone's gonna die tonight, and I have to hurry and get there as soon as possible if I wanna save him. Please, Mr. Wells, I have no time to lose."

David Parry was desperate.

He sounded dejected, exhausted and miserable. He had decided to face his son, to apologize and tell him how much he loved him, and he knew that perhaps it was going to be too late.

"Okay. I'll give you the address, but on one condition." Jonathan Wells was ready to make the most of the situation, now, that he had already made his move.

He knew he ought to make the right decision. Regardless, as always, he didn't work for free.

"Which one?" the man asked concerned.

"Your money. That of your son's already mine. Now, I want yours."

The old man nodded.

And then, he signed all the papers.

Two signatures were enough to convey to the shyster his entire fortune.

"Are you satisfied? I gave you everything. Money has no value once you're dead. I'm not giving you anything that I'm gonna need."

Jonathan Wells finalized the will.

It took him a while to read it.

The lawyer was nervous.

He took out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket bag.

He handed it over his forehead. He was sweating.

It was a lot of money.

"May I ask you one last question?" he asked the clergyman.

The old man raised his eyes to the lawyer, who was standing still beside him now, slowly. One nod.

"Why did you take so long?. Your son suffered too much; he did too much harm, and you did him too enough damage, and " the lawyer shook his head "unfortunately, I'm afraid that it'll be too late to avoid the last disaster."

"Never too late."

David Parry left the luxurious office.

He had Hutch's address.

He went to the Parking Lot and got into his car.

He headed to Venice.

He, and all his multitude of ghosts.

It was 11:30 PM.

************************S&H************************

Madoc Parry heard every movement, hidden in his safe harbor in the greenhouse.

However, though under the shadows, he couldn't quell his heart to beating frantically. He was crazy in love with David; enough to throb at the sound of his voice. Only his voice.

He was there.

His breathing sounds were also deafening, so intense that, at times, he feared that the detectives might hear him, and soon be discovered.

When he saw that Hutchinson entered the house with Starsky, he hesitated for a second and wondered if perhaps he should change his plans. He thought that maybe it might not be necessary to get rid of the blond keeper.

That was what Hutch meant for him. A custodian, a lame guardian.

Knowing David, he thought that it would be easy to kidnap him without arousing suspicion. Threatening the brunet in hurting his partner, would suffice.

And Hutchinson was no threat at the time. The big man was absorbed in himself and his drunkenness, and nothing would make him react.

He would not realize what had happened. He might have never known what had happened.

David would evaporate in a puff of alcohol.

The blond-haired man was at his mercy.

However, the temptation was strong.

Above all, he hated David's partner.

David Starsky loved Ken Hutchinson.

David didn't love him.

Starsky would do anything to protect Hutch.

Therefore, he hated the man.

The moment he saw that the two friends entered the room, he came out of hiding.

He had made the decision.

He prepared his weapon.

He chose the right place to stand.

His image in the mirror opposite the door of the room was the perfect place for an ambush.

It wouldn't be an ordinary ambush.

He was going to catch his prey, and his obnoxious bodyguard would never know if he had seen him or if he was there or if he had only imagined it all.

Hutchinson was very drunk.

There, crouched in the shadows, he would wait for Starsky, and he would take him with him when he leaves the room.

There, still in the silence, he could hear the laughter and the nonsensical and silly words that Hutchinson was still saying.

He also could listen to the affection for his friend in David's voice.

And that irritated him enough. 

************************S&H************************

"You're tickling me!"

"I ain't tickling you; I wanna take your shirt off, Hutch!"

"You want me to get naked?"

"Yes! I want you to lie down naked in bed, buddy. It's late."

Hutch was still laughing.

"I love you, Starsk."

"Me too, dummy."

"But I do love you. Don't go, please, never. Do not leave me."

"I don't, I'll never leave you again. Promise."

"Promises, promises, promises." Hutch mimicked Terry's words.

Starsky smiled, thrilled at the memory and Hutch understood.

"Starsk, I want you to stay with me, buddy."

"Tonight?"

"Forever."

Starsky gave a touching smile again and shook his head. There was a long silence. The two friends shared their glances and the cosmic communication that they for so long cultivated unfolded between the pair of blue eyes. A tear rolled down Hutch's classic face; he couldn't help it. "I was so damned scared, Starsk. I'm still scared."

"Why?"

"Because of the shadows from the past and my ghosts."

"You're delirious, Hutch. Gimme a break, nothing's gonna happen now."

Hutch started patting the bed, asking Starsky to go and lie with him. "I want you here, beside me."

"Stop this sweet-talking, babe, please? You wanna seduce me."

"You're my everlasting love, Starsk," Hutch said and started giggling.

"Still, the moment you lean your head on the pillow you'll forget everything about me. You'll fall asleep." the brunet said categorically while he sat on the bed.

"You mean that I won't remember that we spent the night together tonight?" Hutch laughed.

Starsky shook his head, "I won't and you won't."

"Oh, I feel used. I feel like a whore," the blond man said with a theatrical gesture. The laughter was explosive.

"Yes! A whore and for free. I don't plan to leave you a penny!" Starsky cracked another joke and said, "At least, the way I see it, you're so drunk, buddy that you won't remember that I ain't a good kisser indeed. That works in my favor." Starsky winked his eye at Hutch.

"So I was always right!"

"You're supposed to be the brains of this duo, aren't you?

"But you should be a good kisser, pal. You've got the Charles Bronson's type!"

"That was in Joey's imagination. I've told you many times, big lummox, Paul Muni, Paul Muni. That's my type!" Starsky laughed, "Come on, come on, get into bed." Starsky treated him like a small child.

"But you're staying?"

Starsky sighed tired, "Hutch, you're giving me a headache. You're worse than Day-Day."

"You're a great dad. Did I tell you before?"

"Yes, you did. You said everything. Now it's time for you to sleep and rest and shut up; oh! and detox."

"Starsky, thanks!"

"What for?"

"For everything, and mainly for being alive."

"Come on, Kemosabe, you forgot I don't like soapy scenes?"

"I love you."

"Yes, I know. I love you too."

"This is the second time in your life that you tell me."

"And I always choose the nick of times to doing it," he stood, "So this is the end. You sleep. That's a fact. I watch over you, okay?" Starsky shook his head with infinite tenderness.

"You're staying then? Like in the good old days, on my living room's couch?"

"Well, okay, okay! I'll stay for a little longer if that's what you want. Is that good enough?" he opened his arms, he was clueless.

Hutch nodded like a little boy, peacefully.

"Are you cold?" Starsky asked him again.

The blond was shaking.

"No, I just wanna sleep."

"So you lie down," and pulled the covers.

Almost instantly, Hutch closed his eyes. He was beaten. Starsky covered him with an extra blanket and turned off the bedside light.

He felt touched and overwhelmed by the vision of the six feet silhouette of his friend all sprawled and carefree on the mattress. He looked defenseless like a little boy. Hutch was asleep, and yet he couldn't erase the smile that drew over his face.

It was a lovely sight to see; he irradiated a sense of peace. He was serene and looked placid, at last.

For the first time in recent times, Starsky had seen his buddy very vulnerable.

Hutch, his superhero.

His white Knight.

Which was always there willing to do anything to protect him; seemed to be helpless, utterly defeated but entirely pleased.

Their cosmic relationship was waiting for them again.

Before leaving the room, Starsky said softly, barely in a whisper to make sure he was asleep.

"Have sweet dreams, my sleeping beauty."

There was no answer.

************************S&H************************

It took him 20 minutes to get to Venice.

He turned off the car engine; checked the address again.

He parked one block away from the place.

The street lamps reflected the shadow of no one; the street was empty of cars and devoid of people. It was not cold, but the throes of winter had turned the night into a desolate landscape.

The sea breeze, frost, reached his bones.

And he had not much shelter.

He got out of the car, pressed his suit jacket but still failed to get warm. His soul was also freezing.

It had been almost 15 years since the last time he'd seen him.

_Why had he had waited so long?_

_Why, on the threshold of his death, he had decided to connect with life?_

_Why now?_

_Why, before the inevitable, he had realized that he was the one who had avoided everything before? Avoided happiness._

He realized that he had lost everything that he had been given. What he had never had.

He was alone.

He felt alone.

Alone, in the face of death and oblivion.

His son, his only son, had lived in hell, because of him.

Because of his arrogance and frustration.

Only his frustration.

He had been unfair.

Selfish too.

Now he was ready to redeem his hell for him.

And give him birth.

And love.

It was all his fault.

_"Hopefully, I can remedy it,"_ he thought.

Deep inside him, he also thought that perhaps it would be too late.

"Forgive me, Madoc!" He voiced his demons aloud at the Entrance Door. "Oh God, I'm sorry."

And he climbed the stairs.

* * *

**ACT 50 ****-TOGETHER, WE WILL LIVE FOREVER-**

"Hello, dear David."

Starsky felt a sharp pain in his chest as if he had been stabbed in the center of his heart.

He remembered the voice. He could not give out a sound.

Only he remained impassive as if a stampede of buffalos had trampled him; he slumped his body against the wall beside the door to Hutch's room and supported himself. His worst nightmare appeared reflected in the mirror in front of him and before his incredulous eyes.

"You look splendid, gorgeous as if nothing had ever happened to you. Seems like you ain't real. Your nature's extraordinary. "

Starsky could barely control his tumultuous heart. He closed his eyes in disbelief and shook his head as if he was trying to extirpate the memory. He breathed deeply seeking for answers, but still, could not direct his wild ideas.

"You're surprised to see me? You thought you could get rid of me?" Madoc Parry laughed disgustingly. He felt satisfied. "I knew I was gonna win this race, after all. I always win, David."

Starsky was dumb, couldn't say a word. He thought in moving, get to his nightmare and be done with him and everything else. He knew he was physically recovered, strong enough to defeat him, but he was paralyzed. His contracted muscles were unable to honor his orders. His head couldn't command either.

"It's been too long, I - I missed you. Did you miss me?" Parry said filthily.

Starsky suddenly regained his faculties and felt again centered and in control, but still, couldn't utter a single word.

"Oh, David, how I like you. You're my everything, and I wanna show you. You know what day is it tomorrow, don't you?"

Starsky froze at the realization.

The first day of March. It was Saint David's day.

_"Would it be the best day to die? After everything, after working so hard? Would it be?"_ he couldn't help but think, and he wouldn't accept it; not, without putting a fight, even if it was the last one. "What are you doing here? What do you want?" He finally managed to say.

"You. What else?" The Welsh smiled viciously, "I've always wanted you. Want you to be mine. I will always want you, and I need you to help me, I want you to come with me, get away from here and finish what we have started."

"I won't move neither one inch from this spot I'm standing here. If you want me, you'd better come to me and take me, or rather kill me." the brunet said menacingly.

"Yes, yes, don't rush! You give it for granted, handsome. I'll do it, I'm gonna kill you, you know that, but not now." Parry said, disgustingly. He undressed his victim with his eyes, worshiping the image of the magnificent man in front of him. He changed his voice to one of unbounded admiration, longing, and devotion, and then said. "I worked so hard, David. I have not prepared my road from Jail to here only to ruining everything before it starts. I've been waiting for so long!" The sinister man sighed. "Oh God, it was an interminable and painful road with your illness, and all," Parry said reflectively and then laughed triumphantly in the shadows in a perverse way. "But now we're here, and I'll be damned if you ain't gonna be mine."

Madoc's movements were stiff, his words sounded dazzling; the rays of the moonlight did not help either; they filtered through the windows, cut the shadows and electrified Starsky. At one point, he did not know, whether Parry was there or was a ghost or just a figment of his imagination. He was confused and frightened. _"He can't be,"_ he thought.

"Come on, relax. You should accept that neither your cancer won over me. Don't you realize yet? At least, you could admit it and stop fighting me. Love Heals, David. My love healed you. I saved you, for me. And then you're mine, you'll be mine now, and you'll stay that way forever. Mine. Come on, accept it and go with me."

"Go? to Hell!" Starsky said menacingly.

Madoc Parry shook his head and sighed. "Needless to say that that's the place where I ended up being because of you. I'm already in hell since I couldn't have you yet. Be reasonable, and come with me, David, please? If you don't do it, I'll have to kill the fool of your partner."

Starsky started getting visibly agitated, "I won't let you do it!" he said.

"I know that you'll try to stop me, but you won't succeed. Be prepared, you'll have to watch Hutchinson's demise if you don't come now. First I'll make him, and then, it'll be just you and me, and I'll kill you. Wanna try me?" The welsh moved and stood in front of the door that led to Hutch's room; he drew his gun and pointed it directly to the bedroom. The door was ajar, and he could see the bed and Hutch, lying on it. Starsky could see his partner too, behind Parry's figure, both of them reflected in the mirror in front of his eyes.

"You'll have to do it Madoc, positively," he provoked the killer. Unexpectedly, Starsky shifted his position from the place in which he was standing. He occupied with his body the doorway to Hutch's room to block the man's vision with it and prevent that Parry can see his buddy sleeping. "Come on, kill me!" Starsky challenged the nasty man with clenched teeth. His voice changed for one of a more threatening tone. "Let's do it, Mad, let's get this over with. I've had it up to here with you! C'mere and get me, I'm ready!" and he opened his arms offering himself as a sacrificial lamb.

His low voice pitch, somber and defiant made him sound intransigent and dangerous, and Mad loved that about him. His braveness and courage ignited him, Starsky could perceive it only by looking at his eyes. Suddenly, aware of his ineffectiveness, the brunet lost control of his demeanor and his voice, and he raised it more than he should have done. "I'm telling you! Come on!" he almost shouted, losing his temper.

The strength he put into and the effort he did, made him shift his position again involuntarily and he moved even more from the place he was standing and blocking the passing. That sudden movement let Parry catch a glimpse of the sleeping man again. With all the fuss that he had made, unfortunately, Starsky didn't realize that his friend had resurfaced from the darkness too. Neither he realized how exposed Hutch was once again.

"What, Starsk? What did you say?" the blond's voice came from behind.

Starsky froze. He felt uptight, uneasy and insecure. Everything was going to get worse if Hutch appeared on the scene. If Hutch appeared on the scene, Madoc was going to try to kill him. His partner should not intervene; he should spare him. This was his story, only. He was the main character.

"'S nothing, buddy. Stay put there!" he said louder, trying to control the vibration of his voice.

Parry hammered his weapon, "Don't move, David and don't try to do anything!" he warned him.

The tension began to increase; it grew higher and higher. The crescendo of madness moved faster than anyone could expect when suddenly knocks were heard on the front door. Someone was knocking insistently.

One knock, and another and another.

Madoc hesitated for a moment.

The fist on the door persisted even stronger. _"Who's out there?"_ they thought. Starsky's senses sharpened; his ideas were fuzzy and disordered although at the same time hopeful. At such point, he felt that Madoc realized what was going to happen and couldn't help his triumphant grin, but then it was already too late; the stranger's presence didn't seem to quell things or be enough; unfortunately, it worsened everything when the stranger started talking, and he frightened.

And it was at that same moment when they both reckoned and envisioned the fatal outcome.

The time had come, finally.

************************S&H************************

"It's me Madoc, open up!" the voice behind the entrance door shouted frantically.

Madoc opened his eyes astonished. His head ached; he raised his trembling hand and rubbed his temple. _"Who's talking? He can't be"_, he thought. He started getting more and more nervous and grimaced in pain. He was confused.

"What's going on, Starsk? Someone's knocking at the door, can't you hear? Will you get to open it? I wanna sleep!" Nothing but silence came into Hutch's ears. The drunk man waited for a moment, and when there was no response, he said, "Okay, I'll see to it" he mumbled as he got out of bed.

"Stay there, Hutch! Don't move; nothing's going on." Starsky said trying to control his voice again.

Madoc's hand began to tremble.

"Open the door. Madoc, if you're there, now open up!" the man behind the Entrance door insisted, screaming with authority.

Madoc started shaking all over.

"Open up, Mad, open it before it's too late," Starsky lowered his voice. He tried to talk some sense into his assailant seeing how distraught he suddenly had become. The impact of the voice was undeniable; Starsky wondered who might be the man behind the door.

"What's that screaming for, what's going on, Starsk?" Hutch said from the darkness in which he was in.

The brunet tried to cover the door again, put his left hand on the knob without taking his eyes out of the movements of his tormentor.

He knew he should think fast, move faster. He had to prevent that Hutch could get hurt. His partner had already gotten up from the bed. He could feel him. He didn't realize; it had been just a second.

_Think fast._

He was only able to sense the blond's warm presence behind him who was struggling to come. The dark-haired man turned around.

His eyes etched in his buddy.

Starsky felt threatened, and Hutch confused.

Everything was going to go terribly wrong.

Suddenly, a muffled sound pierced the brunet's ears and flooded his entire head coldly.

He realized, he heard it, the finger on the trigger. He turned around.

_Move faster._

Starsky closed his eyes; however, he was able to see the path that the bullet had taken.

Mad had aimed straight at Hutch, directly.

It only lasted a fraction of a second.

The flash of the gun blinded to everyone.

Madoc lost accuracy at aiming, because of the strength of the liberated gunpowder.

And he shot.

At Point-blank range.

The acrid smell of saltpeter, sulfur and the charcoal pervaded all the spaces and polluted their nostrils.

And after the blast, they realized that the smell had mingled with the smell of blood, ripped flesh, and bitter tears.

A feeble lament and a soft puff preceded the hollowest of the silences.

Starsky had crossed the path of the bullet and put himself between his friend and the gun.

Only to protect him.

When Hutch crossed the doorway to the living room, it was too late.

His partner was lying on the floor. Wounded or dead, the blond didn't seem to realize in his drunken confusion. Hutch ducked and went to him. He took him in his arms and cradled him while crying.

He cried.

He didn't see anybody, but a figure etched in the mirror in front of him who looked like a ghost; a very solid one. No one else, aside from his fallen friend who was lying there on the colorful carpet of Venice Place utterly unmoving.

A pool of red started running under his partner's body, and he shouted in pain.

A piercing cry, brutal.

Madoc lowered the gun.

He was also crying and mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Oh, My God! What did I do?"

Outside the house, the man kept banging on the door.

Madoc couldn't hear him well.

However, voices of his past were filling his ears.

He heard his father's voice.

He believed he was calling him.

This time, the screams were deafening. The blows were so violent that the man's insistence broke down the door.

When Madoc's father came in, his son was kneeling on the floor like an automat and repeating the only word he could remember at the moment: 'David.'

He had a gun hanging loosely from his hand, and he was sitting and bouncing on his heels. Before him, two men were also sprawled on the floor.

One of them was crying as he held in his arms the seemingly lifeless body of one brown-haired man while he stroked the tangled curls of his head, lovingly.

He was whispering into the hurt man's ear.

David Parry looked at the devastated figure of his only son.

"Madoc, boy." The reverend ran to grab him. Madoc looked lost and in panic. He was crying without tears. "Madoc, look at me, look at me, son. What have you done?" he took him from his arms.

"Dad?"

"Son. I'm sorry. I came to apologize."

"Dad?"

"Yes, Madoc. It's me."

"Why? Why now, father? Why?" he asked his old man.

"Because I'm dying. I have cancer, and I'm gonna die. I don't wanna die alone."

The father embraced him. A big hug.

Madoc started laughing hysterically and looked at his father straight into his dark and lifeless cobalt-blue eyes. When his father looked at him, he didn't reciprocate but turned away from him just to face his ultimate crime. The old man said, cupping his son's face with his callous hands "Don't look at him, come on! Don't look at him." and prevented him from looking in the direction of the wounded man

"I killed him, dad. I killed my David!"

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm gonna help you, don't look at him. Everything's gonna be alright… now I'm here. I came here to tell you that I love you. I - I love you, son."

Madoc looked again into his father's eyes. One solitary tear was running down his ashen white face. He pulled the gun from the ground and in an unexpected move shot himself in the place where it was assumed that his heart should be.

"Noooooooo!" the Reverend shouted.

Madoc managed to put the faintest of the smiles while the cries of despair from his father resounded loudly in his ears. It was the last sound he heard until he collapsed in a void of nothing and said, "Too late."

The noise of the old man's cry was shocking.

David Parry began to mourn, inconsolably and only repeating, "Forgive me! Forgive me!"

The words that he didn't get to tell his son on time.

Hutch, who unwittingly had witnessed the slaughter was crying, silently over the motionless body of his friend.

He felt confused, miserable and alone.

He was clinging to Starsky.

He could not let him go.

The screams, the wail of sirens and the static of the police radios were the last sounds that were heard in the place.

Until the silence of death took over everything.

This time, when the police came, it was already too late.

It was March, the 1st, 1985.

Saint David's Day.

************************S&H************************

The upright stones were surrounded by desolation, decay, and silence. To left and right and to the front and rear the patterns were quite disciplined. Symmetrical, dull, monotonous. One after another, they remained quiet like an army of the dead.

Some gravestones were collapsed, eroded by the centuries. Most were neglected, abandoned, and even their mourners had stopped grieving. But some of them were of polished marble and stayed standing stoic, and with new gleaming scriptures and wreaths.

One of them stood out among all, exceptionally bright and white.

It was new and recently occupied.

Three initials were drawn correctly and crowned the top of his stone.

It was only visited, by the same empty man, almost every day, insistently.

It was Fall.

Months had passed since he had died. His scent was far off, and even further had stayed his sufferance. But in the mourner man's mind, he could still see him, conjure him whole, beckoning him to go and stay with him.

And take care of him.

And protect him.

The man with the empty existence loved the dead one; he had always loved him, still loved him, and he was always going to do it. However, he was haunted by his memory, tantalized, as if the departed was teasing him from beyond, and reproach him.

He felt way too guilty to let go.

He thought he should die, but then, he didn't deserve that sort of release. Neither redemption. He should stay with him. He would stay with him, forever, rotting himself, like the late was rotten, and far away from this corrupt world.

Thus, he kept going.

He went every day. 

This day, when the dark and hollow soul's visitor arrived again in the new twilight, the wind began howling; screaming, in fact, his ghostly conversation.

The puffs were so sharp that they gave to the nearby ocean the appearance of thousands of broken glasses that were reflecting the ghost of a smile.

His smile.

His ghost was smiling at him.

The rain not only fell but also soaked, relentless and torrential. The leaves from the trees did not bounce; they swayed, languishing in their death's fall. Their musty leaves and the scarlet shining coppers were illuminated in its decrepitude by the weak rays of a pale and shy sun that were fighting its battle with the leaden gray sky and the rain.

It was an unequal fight.

His fight.

He was fighting death, and he had already lost.

Death was the only thing perennial in his life, and perennial was the sufferance of its prisoner who was buried in the tomb.

In the distance, the shawls of the trees were little more than a thick layer of red and yellow haze.

There was no evergreen.

Only red, red like blood.

He saw blood; it was running through his hands.

The blood of the death's prisoner.

There was no more life.

Suddenly, a lightning jagged tore the sky in two leaving a black hole. Hazardous. And the blond man stumbled startled.

A cruel irony surrounded the tombstone. It was nameless, and that fact woke more than one speculation. Occasional visitors stood before it, wondering who would be the one who dwelt in it. But despite the onlookers' curiosity, the grave remained there, upright, defiant and with no answers.

It was ready to go on and on, forever and ever.

The gravestone was something permanent that housed something transitory.

It was something tangible, reliable and secure although his inhabitant no longer would be anything like that.

Only a memory, he was.

Its denizen had already been devoured by the earth from which he had come; his laughter had been evaporated, and his life extinguished.

The late one had been meant to leave an indentation. He had tried so hard to stay. He did it unremittingly but though he only had lived for and stood for to avoid the pain... only pain had survived him

He had failed.

And despite his traces; no matter his efforts and all the things he'd done while he was alive, only his tomb had survived him.

He had lost too, and his tombstone was the only place left where the grieving man could find him, now that he had lost him forever. But for the visitor, all the days wouldn't be sufficient to mean oblivion, to what had ceased to be or what had never been.

His inhabitant was gone, but not his stone.

That's why the visitor came back. To meet him.

He went every day.

************************S&H************************

"Hey, look over there. Is that guy again."

Charlie, the manager's son, said to 'Speckles,' Foster's boy hired by the Cemetery Authorities to be a gravedigger. They were wandering through the alleys of the Boneyard or as they liked to say, the City of the Dead.

"Yeah, he gives me the creeps. It seems he suffers more than anybody else in the whole damn graveyard." Speck said disturbed.

Charlie shrugged, "I wonder who might be? Who might be buried down there? His mother, his sibling or maybe his son?" He used to sniff in the story of the buried ones and their visitors, and 'Speck' was the good and valiant company for that.

"I don't know. Maybe some celebrity or a hero, or perhaps he's been a murderer!" Speckles made a spooky gesture to his friend, and the little boy got scared. "I don't know, Charlie boy!"

"Yeah," the boy's eyes were wide opened, "Yeah, maybe that's the reason the stone's got no name!" he shrugged.

"Whaddaya mean it's got no name?" the redhead boy asked surprised.

"You didn't realize? Just that. It only has three letters, three initials. But no name." Charlie said, mysteriously.

"Oh! And how's that? Does your father allow any given John Doe to be buried here?"

"No, he doesn't! But it looks like the guy was an outstanding person, sort of. Dad refused to say. He told me that when they brought the body they asked him for a total anonymous just in case some people like to pay revenge on the dead one. I don't know but I'm freaking curious! He brought the issue last night with mom at dinner and was gossiping with her about it and then compelled Harry and me to go to bed without listening." He shrugged, disappointed.

"Hey, interesting! So what about it? Seems like we have one renowned zombie here, uh? Who might have been?"

Speck was curious.

He had no roots, neither a family. He wondered which one the story behind the tombstone would be. If the person buried in that grave might have felt while living, as lonesome and forlorn as he felt. "At least you have someone who grieves for you, now," he said aloud to the marble, involuntarily.

"What?" Charlie had his hands in his trousers pockets and was bouncing over the place. It was getting chilly.

"Nothing!" 'Speck' hurriedly answered. "You cold? Hey, take this!" and he threw Charlie the shovel. "Start digging there, you'll get warm." The orphan kept his eyes on the lifeless figure of the tall and handsome man who was standing at the grave.

The grieving man looked as dead as the dead one.

They were at 20 feet away from the blond-haired man who now was knelt over the stone, immobile and seemingly crying.

"And you say that the grave has no name but just three letters. Mmh... What Is it? Is it something like R.I.P.? Some strange acronym in Latin?" he finished saying.

"Something like that, but not R.I.P. I know what R.I.P. means, and it's not it!" Charlie shrugged again, "But Maybe, I should ask my grandfather, he sure knows." The boy kept digging in the soil and pressing his boot over the shovel.

"Your grandfather? Who is he, some kind of a thanatologist? Seems to me or, your family's just a bunch of death's junkies?" He chuckled.

Charlie raised his eyes from the tool and shook his head at the offensive remark.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Specks regretted immediately. "Well, I guess it should have been my tomb, then. Just like me, he's got no name!" the orphan said out of the blue and raised his eyebrows.

He was used to his lack of history and identity and, above all, love.

"Oh, come on! 'Speck.' You're alive and kicking, and that's what matters. And you have a family, we are your family."

"Yeah, my necro-family!"

They both smiled and kept looking at the lonely figure of the sad man in front of them.

They refrained themselves, immediately. Seemed misplaced to have fun in front of such an amount of suffering.

The blond man bowed to read the printed letters.

The monument was as white as snow crystal and seemed to have its aura.

He brushed his hand through the carved footprints.

He left a photo and a pale flower.

He mumbled his promise and asked for forgiveness for not having protected him.

He knew he was talking to the bones; however, it was the only place where he felt sufficiently close to doing it and try to explain.

And ask for exoneration.

He stood again opposite the grave and stared at the white headstone in white marble embodied in front of him. He also had a painful translucent white face.

The three letters stood idle and defiant.

He stood there for a while.

Lately, he had spent long vigil hours in that same place, surrounded by other graves. He felt like the dead; he knew he was. He knelt again, stroked the frozen solid surface, one last time, stood up and walked to the place where his car was waiting for him.

The two boys rushed to where the man had left, curiously.

They saw the photograph corrupted over the years with the picture of two men; they were smiling.

They read the tombstone.

"D.M.S.," was written.

************************S&H************************

It was early May.

The sounds of the laziest of the mourning doves still dominated the area and silenced the revolt of the lively traffic jams riots. The house finches were singing their hearts out, and the chirps of the cicadas were like love songs that they sang to each other as well.

African Lilies and drought-resistant California Poppies.

May; which meant the heady scent of Eucalyptus, and the intensely fragrant aroma of jasmine that bloomed in the heat of the day. May: and also the pungent of the skunks that permeated everything. And although It was not pervasive, not an overpowering smell, it was there, trying to make good acquaintances with you, insisting on letting you get accustomed to your rotten being, to your nasty life or your vile existence... whatever.

Weed. Mexican and Chinese, ethnic food. Gentrified Neighborhoods, wannabes Hollywood stars, starlets, dreamers, bettors.

Good and bad. Right and wrong.

Los Angeles.

It was early May.

He was watching the children while they were rocking on the colorful swings, again and again tirelessly. He was sitting on a bench in the ancient and familiar Park where they used to go always - centuries ago. The warmth of the new day and the cool of the old night coaxed the sweet scents out into the air for him to inhale them.

He was relaxed.

Little Day-Day, - his cap three sizes larger than his dark and curly-haired head- was almost two years old now.

He had his father's cap.

Yankees' cap.

The boy was the apple of his eyes, and he spent a lot of time with him.

He enjoyed his company; as much as the kid enjoyed his; they took pleasure mutually, actually; and they nourished themselves with caresses and yesterday's stories that only he knew and could tell.

Besides, the kid was the spitting image of his father.

He was a lefty, and he had an uncanny ability to play Baseball, the game that he and his best friend loved so much to play.

_"What's not to love?"_ He thought. Day-Day, frolicking on the grass was such a pleasure to see!

Also, the old park that housed the close and familiar tree was a beautiful place to spend the day. As if a wave of vintage sweet feelings surrounded him by the mere fact of just being there.

They were noble feelings; made him felt dignified.

However, they were not enough, and he was tired, exhausted.

Lately, his life had changed a lot.

He had not jogged in months, although felt like years, because his body ached, still ached. He was hurt.

Seven years, first; about three years then, another one, and now this month, May. The worst of all, the most dreaded month. Always May.

The devastating month of May, terrifying and final.

Every single minute, It was getting worse and worse.

He couldn't bear it anymore and knew he should do something. He scratched his head and squeezed his eyes shut until he could see only sparks of gray that remained stubbornly on his retina.

_"Damn!"_ He used to see flashes of rainbows and silver twinkling stars before... and dreams and one future.

Stars..., and the only thing he could see now was a thin veneer of a matte gray.

No more brightness, no more, but gray, only gray as his life was.

Even with closed eyes, he could see them. There wasn't enough room for dreaming.

He felt sad; he had a deep and sharp pain that he couldn't get rid of.

That's why he used to go to the Park and tried to heal.

He should take a resolution. The final decision. He knew he had that power, and It was about time.

Observing how the kid was running and breathing was inspiring. He would know what to do. The kid would tell him what to do.

He knew what he wanted to do.

Above all, he loved making Day-Day happy and loved seeing him how he liked to play.

The kid was playing Baseball.

It was a small game to play in.

Shortly before he sat down, he had been playing catch with the boy too.

He had complied with every action in which he had compromised; observed all the details and fulfilled all the wishes. Day-Day was not a spoiled child, but he could be tough and demanding. He had every reason to be.

Sometimes belligerent but always happy, his tenderness, was hard to ignore, and Hutch felt that his mission in this world was to staying here, still be here, just to satisfy him.

After all, he had inherited the most beautiful of the ancestries.

Therefore, he had stumbled into the ground and had eaten the grass. He had become an African-American blond while he wallowed in the mud and lost all the home runs that the little boy wanted him to lose.

Only to see him laugh.

The boy had a beautiful and sweet, charming smile.

He had his father's smile. 

It amazed him how the boy had grown, in such a short time and with a lot of adversity. Day-Day had been sufficiently pampered to overcome many sorrows and failures. His nephew was a beautiful and cheerful boy. He was sweet, playful and respectful of their elders, and above all things exceptionally affectionate. They all had done an excellent job. Caroline had always been by the baby's side, protecting him.

He was proud of the boy.

He suppressed a faint smile of satisfaction.

He thought, _"would it be right ever to laugh again?"_ He looked sideways; Caroline was also there, just like he was, watching and existing.

It seemed to him that the girl was always expecting miracles to happen. Waiting, optimistic.

As if she could always wait.

As if they could ever stop expecting.

She also had a lovely smile, though she laughed less than before. It was a shame she was sad. He had to do something to make her smile back; knew how to do it. He wanted to laugh together, all together again. He remembered how life used to be and wanted to smile, however, until the moment he was going to share his decision aloud, he knew his smile wouldn't suit the moods of the moment, so he repressed it.

Besides, she had her sight lost in the grass, her mind was drifting away, so there was no need to interrupt her, he wouldn't like to do it; just like him, she also liked the park.

It was the only place where they could breathe easier.

Even in the middle of their worst season, they could feel comfortable enough and peaceful there; color splashed with green and blue. It was as if they had to go there to counteract that other oppressive and disabling place.

Yeah, every passing day it was getting worse and worse, and they needed to be there.

He thought that today would be the last day.

He knew that he had to make the decision, he knew in his heart that he had already made up his mind. Only he had to put it out loud. And take into matters.

Yeah, there would be a future.

Today, it would be the starting point for that future.

Two hours spent on the bench had been enough, he knew.

He was going to tell her; he was ready.

_"Yeah, we will all laugh together soon,"_ he thought.

He stood up, picked up the baseball bat from the floor. He shook his head, thinking.

Caroline and he, as the ball, the bat, and the gloves had been abandoned to their fate, and the little kid was playing with his new friend.

Like any other boy, the minute when another child arrived at the nearest bench, Day-Day forgot about everything and rushed toward the promise of a new and instant friendship that only childhood could provide.

Childhood, when one second meant forever.

Well, he thought better of it.

There was a time when he could share the same feeling that the boy had. He realized that it was not necessary to be a child to experience the marvelous and ecstatic joy that only a friend could offer; the natural love, the instant chemistry, the unforced longing to be together, to share everything, ask everything and give everything too. The blind trust and the warmest of the protections that only in a true friend someone can find were indescribable. He had experienced that feeling of infatuation before, and he had not been that young at the time. _"Well, I had been younger indeed, once upon a time,"_ he thought, _"and friendship is not a matter of childhood"._ A soulmate, that word so long defined and discovered, still rang lots of bells in his ears.

Me and Thee.

Us.

And Starsky. 

Starsky...

He could only but chuckle at the evoked memory.

This time, he couldn't hide his smile. 

"Hey, what are you thinking of?" Caroline asked him.

He shook his head and didn't answer. She stayed silent for some time, staring at him, but something nagged her, and she wanted to know. She insisted. "I remembered the first time we've met. Do you remember, Hutch?" she said.

Hutch frowned.

"Your face! Your face now reminded me of that first day!" She explained to him, "It lightened up again. That day at Memorial's Cafeteria, do you remember? I told you that you seemed to be in a pleasant place. Happy. You have that same expression right now" She smiled a sweet smile and waited for a second recollecting her feelings, "Are you thinking about him?"

He raised his eyes to the sky, released a mouthful of air, "I think it's about time we take Day-Day to see him, Caroline." Hutch answered out of the blue.

She broke her gaze from him, looked away. "I don't know, Hutch. I'm afraid that he might get scared. It's not a beautiful place to go to. He's just a little boy."

They sighed, uncomfortably; they were sitting on the bench, bewitched by the magical boy in front of them who was prancing happily and strutting daredevil all around the park.

"Yeah, but he's his father, Cary. Somehow, I know that he's waiting."

"Yes, but he understands. I know that too." She sighed; she didn't feel less bereaved because he would understand the decision she was making, but somehow that fact reassured her. Neither she felt safe to expose her son to such an ugly situation, "I already feel selfish enough, but, it's not easy, Hutch. I don't know how to handle the situation. I mean… what if?" She shook her head at Hutch's blank stare. "Anyway, what about tomorrow? Perhaps I'll take him tomorrow." She shrugged, she felt completely guilty and coward but couldn't help to try to avoid the kid such a moment of despair. "Or maybe when his birthday comes? That would be even better," she offered.

"That's three days from today, Caroline." Hutch raised his eyebrows, incredulous.

She shrugged.

She felt that Hutch was questioning her, reproaching her.

The blond-haired man's position was clear, for him, there was a no more important person than Starsky in the whole world. To Hutch, Starsky's meaning was undeniable, but she felt divided. She also had Day-Day, and although she loved Dave more than her life itself, she had to take care of her child too.

She wished she could protect him.

The boy thought that his father was far away, that he had gone East in a long, long trip.

_And that's the way it should be, for now,_ she thought.

She had already discussed it with Dave, before; the way she was going to deal with everything in case something may happen to him.

"I'm sorry, Hutch. I can't take him there, still can't," and she cast puppy eyes to the friend, and he understood, silently nodding and closing his tearful eyes. "You are going?" she asked him.

Hutch smiled. "Yes, I'm going now, right after here."

"Tell him hello for me. I won't make it there, today. It's already too late."

"I'll do." He rubbed her arm. "I always do," he winked at the woman.

"Yeah, I know. You also tell him that I love him, okay?" She softened and cracked her voice.

"He knows."

She sighed. "Oh, Hutch! Everything's very hard, tremendously cruel! Shit, shit, shit!" She broke.

"Trust me. Everything's gonna be all right. And soon."

She had lost her sight in the African Lilies in front of her. "I wish I could be like that hummingbird over there and fly the time backward. Maybe have a time machine," She said, pensively.

"To go to the past? Naw! I'd like to go to the future, Cary. I don't wanna turn back. Nothing good's been left behind. I wanna fly further and forward. There's a future ahead, lady, I know. I can feel it."

"There isn't," she said downhearted, "I'd like to have a time machine only to visit the past, our past together."

"If you deny the future, you can't have your present. Your time machine needs to go in both directions so you can get back to the moment. Every past has its future, and every future has its past. The things that we make today are which can change everything; Starsky taught me that." Hutch made a pause, and he raised her face from the jaw. "And I have to tell you something that I'm just about to do today, that's gonna change everything, I've already made up my mind."

Her expression changed instantly, and she didn't dare to ask, she was afraid she would imagine things, but she had to know, "And what are you gonna do?" She finally abdicated full of hope and asked him.

"Whaddaya think?" He chuckled and winked at her.

She smiled, thrilled, and suppressed a burst of relief that mingled with the old and tired tears.

They hugged each other.

"Thanks, Hutch. My life won't be enough to thank you for what you do for us."

***************************S&H****************************

"Hey, Speck! Hey, he came back, look."

They were wandering through the alleys of the graveyard. Lurking again.

The blond-haired man was standing at the grave, like every day.

It was a warm and windy May afternoon, quite late but still sunny.

The shadows of the sunset in the cemetery evoked a baroque procession of cherubs mingled with mourners that were escorting the passersby on either side of the avenues of white stones, as white as he was. Angelic saints stood guard in the hills scattered through the perfectly manicured acres. The monuments were wet with the salty spray that came from the sea, slippery by the water roaring; the water pounded the marbles and swept the landscapes in a vain intent to erase the memories.

The blond man was clinging to the stone with white knuckles as if it were a lifeline.

And he couldn't forget. Didn't want to forget.

The sea was tempestuous; the water was shrinking and stretching in a wave without end. It was sheer movement. As for him, everything else had stopped moving since the day in which the dead one died.

His life was surrounded by an absolute stillness, since then, so it was only in the stillness of the afternoon, in the cemetery, where he could find some peace.

"One year, that's 365 days… How many days are in March? 31?"

"31. What're you doing?" Speckles asked distractedly to the younger boy.

"Counting the days, what else? It's been 365 days, plus 31 more of March, and 30 days of April, uh…today's 12th, so 12 days of May. Hey, you got a pen?"

"Oh, come on, Charlie! Four hundred and something days, that's it! What for... Hey, sh!" Speckles shushed the boy, who was still counting with his fingers and signaled with his head to where the blond-haired man was still standing, barely.

Suddenly, a feeling of fullness wrapped them.

The mourning man and the kids raised their eyes to the endless sky. In that instant, the clouds disappeared floating above the blue sea and fused with the waves, and just like them, they were absorbed in the aquamarine immensity. Somehow it was as if they had not been expecting the blue sea to imitate carefully the bluest of the skies. It looked like a mirror.

Only it had no end.

The wind had died, and even the roar of the sea was absent.

Regardless of the tranquil landscape, the kids could tell that the man was as sullen as always, and today he looked even worse.

Although for the first time, he seemed at peace. Strangely.

They saw him as he put his hand in his jacket's pocket.

It was not cold but it seemed that the man was chilly since he had a jacket.

He knelt on the grave and took a sharp rock to scribble over the tombstone.

Three letters and one name.

If they had well-sharpened their senses, they could have heard nothing but the crunch of twigs under his graceful movements, the screech of stone on the stone while he was scribbling, and the grass that stirred; and although there was no air, a plenitude of coldness seemed to have enveloped him and even his breath seemed to die as soon as it left his mouth, which is why the blond-haired man looked older and even more dejected than he had ever been before.

Charlie and Speckles waited for a moment.

They thought that something else was going to happen as if something was out of place.

There was absolute stillness.

Neither one drop of water or the chirping of a bird.

Not a sound was heard.

He straightened and sat down until, suddenly, slowly, very slowly he bent in two as if he was crying; or perhaps laughing, from the distance, they didn't know.

Soon they realized that his surroundings were in a strange sort of calm and although no predator was near, strangely, he had become the prey. The world around him had him enclosed in a cocoon, a bubble, with no way out.

They couldn't save him.

Neither he wanted to be rescued.

In fact, they realized that the man enjoyed a long-awaited sensation.

His death, for so long expected, was coming to take him.

Yes! he was not crying he was laughing a sad and tired smile.

Specks and Charlie couldn't move or make any sound and they realized that they were unable to distract him, they were just hovering over him waiting and knowing that somehow, something was going to happen.

They weren't wrong.

After a few seconds, the man collapsed on the monument.

They thought it was about time. 

**************************S&H*************************

"Call your dad, Charlie. I think he's dead." Specks yelled at his frozen buddy, and he started running toward the main building of the Graveyard.

When the Coroner's Wagon arrived, they took the body of the poor grieving man to the Morgue.

The Police started asking lots of questions. They looked quite nervous and troubled.

Relieved, too

"Let's go, kids," Lloyd Wordsworth, Charlie's father, told them, "There's nothing we can do here at this time in the afternoon."

"Dad, wait." Charlie grabbed him by his arm.

"What? What do you want, Charlie?"

"Look, Dad, there's something here written under the tomb's inscription. That man wrote it before he dies."

"Yeah? What is it?" he asked, indifferently.

"Mh, yeah... It says '_N.T.L, David.' _What's that? Perhaps, '_Never too late'_?" The young boy asked puzzled.

"Could be." His father answered him.

"Dad, can you tell me now who's buried here?"

"I've already told you that I don't know, Charlie."

"I don't believe you, dad!"

"I'm telling you the truth! Let's go home!"

"Wait!" His father rolled his eyes. "At least tell me, what does D.M.S. mean then? Is it the man's name?"

"No, Charlie, It's an acronym in Latin, and it means '_Dis Manibus Sacrum.' _In English, _"To the Memory of."_ Charlie's father answered.

"Oh, I thought it was his name."

"No, it isn't. The man buried here's a mystery, and he'll remain a mystery now that his visitor's gone forever." 

**************************S&H*************************

His movements were modest and controlled.

He could not do much more, on a daily basis.

In fact, he could not do much more than talk, since even talk, exhausted him.

His old and tired lung was diseased and could not sustain any extra effort, not anymore. Not even the breathing work, which turned out to be too much for him to take at such point that he couldn't endure it alone.

They had warned him that this would happen, after the last shot, sooner or later. And it did happen; he had already counted the days, it had been 438 days ago.

The last bullet had torn apart his right lung, the sick one. And a month ago a sudden and unexpected crisis, while he was working at the Station, put him on the brink of death again.

Again.

The traces of the obstinate and incessant bullets that had decorated his body over the years and his cancer were impossible to overcome and confronted him with the irreversibility of the end.

His end, finally.

It was the respirator or nothing.

It was the damn machine to staying bedridden in respiratory support... until an infection catches up with his lungs, and kills him; he also knew that.

It was an artificial life or genuine death.

His poor prognosis made him range between those options, and he was embracing both.

His choices were almost non-existent.

He had talked to Cary and Hutch.

One month ago.

Now he was sure that he would do it and he had decided that if he survived, he would give up being a street cop. It was necessary.

He wasn't able to do it anymore.

He was admitted to the hospital, one month ago; and, just in case, he had said goodbye to everybody and everything.

He had made the decision; now he was readily expecting his doctors to make theirs.

They had told him that they should remove part of his right lung.

They had also told him that it would be risky. Three years ago the malignant tumors that dwelt in the broken organ attempted to make him sleep for forever, and though he recovered, the surgery would be dangerous and perhaps final. It was not advisable to deal again with the lung tissues that had been so sick; he'd been sufficiently informed.

However, although it was not advisable, in this instance, it was necessary.

It was an urgent priority.

Again he experienced that same feeling of hopelessness when decisions that bothered him had to be made; but now, it was not only Starsky, the cop, who had to survive.

It was Starsk, Hutch's friend.

Motek, Cary's husband.

And most of all, Daddy, Day-Day's half of everything.

Also, it was his life out there.

He was going to miss his life out there. Once again.

He was sure of that, too.

But he would give up his life, at least this kind of life he was living.

Besides, for what he was going through, couldn't be called in that way.

When he realized that he had to take the risk, and the doctors put him on the list for a transplant and hospitalize him, they decided to tell his little boy that he had gone East. He and Cary lied to Day-Day and told him that he had to take care of his Mom, who they said, was very sick.

They didn't want the kid to see his father in the way he was.

Gaunt. Thin and breathless.

Mournful and jaded.

Connected to a hateful and noisy machine, in life support almost all the time.

Like an old-timer cripple at death's threshold.

They lied to the baby and more than a lie, they had made an expression of hope.

He hoped he could heal again, one more time.

He realized that he had lived for granted the past years; after Parry and Gunther.

Cancer.

It had been too much, but then, no matter what, he also knew that he had lived a good life. He had gone further, higher, and deeper than anyone ever could have expected him to go. He had been in hell, and also in heaven. He had many people who loved him.

Whom he loved.

He could tell, somehow, that he was peaceful and relieved now that he had made the decision.

So he was waiting and expecting, again.

_"What if? Why not?"_

"How're you doing, buddy?" Hutch entered the private room.

"We're okay. We're okay." Starsky had both his arms over his belly. He was relaxed though looked tired.

"We? You and who else?" Hutch sat beside him smiling. "Here! Take this!" He offered to his buddy, "Cary baked the pecan pie for you." He unboxed the goodie, put it on the nightstand. Starsky smiled tenderly.

"Alvin here, and me. Who else?", he said.

"Alvin? Who's Alvin?" Hutch didn't understand to whom he referred.

"My machine, here" and he signaled to the ventilator, "He helps me with my Alvin - olies."

"Alveoli, Starsky, alveoli." Hutch smiled.

"Whatever, alveoli, alvinolies, I still prefer anchovies! And I can't eat'em either… hafta take care of my blood pressure. Damn me! I'm a mess! I feel like the six million dollar man." He said flustered and sighed; but neither the old routine seemed to cheer the mood up, and he realized. He started rising from the mattress to a sitting position with lots of efforts. He grimaced in pain. He felt a horrible pain and a short of breath that was utterly unbearable, and he closed his eyes. Hutch helped him to relax after the strenuous task. He wasn't attached to anything at the moment though he usually was.

"Stay put, Starsk! Quiet, be quiet!" the flaxen-hair man cooed, "You're gonna get rid of your lousy and imaginary friend anytime!" He smiled and shook his head. Starsky opened his eyes and smiled, tiredly. He couldn't talk. He closed his eyes again.

Hutch put a soft hand on his heaving chest giving him time to catch his breath. "Relax, buddy" he tried to comfort him.

Starsky nodded, still unable to say a word and opened his haunted eyes, so Hutch filled the silence while kept caressing his friend's chest in little circles. He knew how much he hurt.

"You know? I've been in the park, played some catch with Day-Day." Hutch shook his head, "Pal, your son... He's a prodigy!"

Starsky closed his eyes. They began to flooding full of tears.

"How's he?" He asked.

"Big and beautiful. Happy."

The brunet nodded, sadly and opened his eyes with his face upwards onto the ceiling.

"Caroline won't come today; she asked me to tell you that she loves you." The blond man smiled and softened his voice.

Starsky chuckled, sweetly, he bit his lower lip. "Poor girl, she's beautiful!"

"Yes, she is. But I don't see the reason you call her 'poor girl.'"

"I think that she should've found a less wretched piece of crap than me, that's why. Shouldn't she?" he turned his head to his friend and closed his eyes again, ashamed.

"You're not a piece of crap, buddy. You know that!"

Starsky opened his eyes and took a mouthful of air, something rare in him lately. "I wish we could be better strangers, Hutch."

"Why's that?"

Starsky sighed. "I tried so hard not to hurt her, or hurt you," He tried to inflate his lungs, "What if I hafta go?" He raised his eyebrows and opened his eyes seeking for air. Hutch didn't want to understand and frowned. The brunet cleared his voice, he touched his chest, nervously and tried to clarify. "Give up the ghost, bite the big one, Hutch, you got it? Or maybe buy the whole farm and push up the daisies..." he made a ghostly laugh without sound, "Gone Hutch, forever, and shuffle off my incredibly sexy mortal coil" He grimaced in pain and gave a feeble smile before closing his eyes in pain.

"Starsky, please!" Hutch looked disgusted by his friend's awkward attempt at humor. He didn't want to be funny; he wouldn't please him, "Why're you saying that?"

"Cause I want you to give me permission to go, Hutch" They shared their glances, Hutch lowered his eyes to the floor. Starsky insisted, "Sometimes I feel like I might need your permission to die, buddy. I'm so fucking tired. I want you to know that I would go happy and comfortable and with no regrets, you can stay at peace." Suddenly, he became grave all at once.

Hutch squinted, angry; he didn't want to be absolved. "I wouldn't stay at peace if you die. Never! No matter how funnily you act and whatever the words you choose to say because I don't want you to go so, you don't have my permission."

Starsky blushed. "I know you love me so much, pal."

Hutch shook his head. "You don't know how much. I'm gonna prove you, soon."

Starsky frowned. "I don't have any doubts about it. You don't have to prove me anything" he said, "I also lov..."

Hutch interrupted him, "Please, don't say it again. I know."

"I know that you know. You're afraid of me saying it, uh?"

Hutch nodded, every time after Starsky said those same words something terrible happened so they shared their glances again. Emotions run through their eyes, thousands of words unsaid, words that they didn't need to say, wouldn't have to say. Starsky broke.

"Hutch, I don't wanna live like this."

"I know, Starsk. We're gonna find our way."

"There's no way."

"Yes, there is, buddy. We're gonna sort this out; you'll see."

"How? How? What are you saying?"

Hutch made a long pause; he didn't like to break the news so unexpectedly but he wanted nothing more than to share his decision with his friend. Starsky looked so fragile and weak and vulnerable, he needed to save him, so he caressed his face with infinite tenderness and the atavistic love they shared showed him the way and he decided that he was gonna tell him.

"I'm saying that I've been properly screened, buddy. We'll do the lobe transplant, and I'll be your donor."

Starsky stared perplexed at Hutch's decision. He didn't know what to think, whether scream of joy or shout of sorrow. The news rocked him.

It shook his whole world but yet; the transplant scared him to hell, and now, he was frightened for Hutch too.

"But it's terrible and too dangerous, pal!"

"Not as much as living without you would be." They shared one endless glance; more than words were said with their eyes. "Every breath you take is precious for me, Starsk, and worthy. The terrible thing for me would be to lose YOU, not to lose a part of my lung. So you don't have to be worried, not anymore."

Starsky was utterly proud of his buddy and so in love with him that he broke into tears of infinite gratitude.

A ghost of a smile reflected in his thin and sick face.

He thought about insisting to him, convince him that he had to quit the crazy idea.

Tell him that they could always wait until someone else turns out to be the right donor. He didn't want to risk his buddy to such a dangerous surgery, but then he realized that there wouldn't be any way out.

Not with Hutch.

So he made up his mind and said.

"I'm far from being worried and neither you should be, Hutch. We're together and fighting. You'll never lose me. You must know that whatever will happen to me, whether I'm here or not anymore, in every breath that you take I'll always be there for you and you'll always be here for me." and he touched his chest.

Fifteen days later from that day, at the end of May, they both entered the O.R. 

Together.

_THE END_


End file.
